


Don't Make Me Say Goodbye

by kittenCorrosion



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fluff, Happy ending though, Hospitalization, Memory Loss, Teen Romance, i almost forgot to tag that jesus, it's really cute until it's not, maybe more like a meet hurt, meet cute?, no powers, set in the 80s, teenage love, unethical doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenCorrosion/pseuds/kittenCorrosion
Summary: Seventeen year-old Mike Wheeler thinks breaking his leg is going to ruin his entire summer. But after escaping his room at the hospital, he crashes into someone he's never seen before—someone who seems oddly familiar. Eleven seems to have plenty of secrets but Mike is intrigued anyways, hardly able to keep away from the captivating girl he's sure he's never met.Grappling with past memories and trying to understand what he can't remember, he begins to open up his past as well as the mysterious girl's—and soon discovers not all of her secrets are as easily as solved as his.[OFF HIATUS I GUESS]





	1. You came into the picture like a natural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna first say that the idea of mike getting hit by a car is directly influenced by "this is the wonder keeping the stars apart" by veausy which is one of the most beautiful stories i've ever read. it's on here and i 10/10 recommend if you love mileven and angst and happy endings like i do.
> 
> okay so... i'm going to be honest, this story goes somewhere i'm tentative to wander because quite frankly, i have little experience with it and that makes me nervous. i don't want to make real issues seem trivial or romanticize illness or any of that, but i want to tell this story and those things are present and are real.
> 
> idk guys i'm trying not to be insensitive but if i cross a line or i'm wrong about something, let me know. i'm all for getting educated.
> 
> anyways i mentioned this story and someone said they were interested so i thought i'd just go for it because... i need to write more. i need to get back into the habit now that i'm done with school. i hope someone out there likes it and asks for more but for now i'll let you see if it's worth reading at all.

_If I had a car, none of this would have happened_ , Mike thought to himself for the thousandth time.

He stared down at the cast that covered his leg from ankle to thigh and sighed, trying to dig his fingers underneath and reach the itch that was driving him fucking _nuts_. The stupid thing had only been on for an hour and it was already driving him crazy.

“—will be _pay for this_ , do you _understand me_?!”

His mother’s voice was shrill outside of the hospital room and even though it wasn’t aimed at him, he winced anyways. The dumbass who had hit him had tried to take off afterwards but was caught pretty quickly, it’s not like Hawkins was big enough to hide. Karen Wheeler wasn’t going to let him get away with it, her mama bear instincts in full effect as she screamed at the police officer outside of the hospital room.

It was his doctor’s voice that broke him from eavesdropping, making him look up at the smiling older man.

“We’re going to keep you for the next two days, just in case that concussion acts up, how does that sound?” The doctor smiled, his eyes way too cheerful. “Don’t want your mother thinking we aren’t trying our hardest.”

Mike snorted but said nothing, sighing and giving up on scratching the itch, instead looking out the window. It was summer and he was supposed to be outside, mowing lawns and working at RadioShack, saving up his money for the car he had been hoping to buy.

The one he didn’t quite have enough for, the one that would have kept this from happening if he’d been driving it instead of riding his old bike. But he hadn’t and now he was stuck at the hospital for the next two days instead of mowing Ms. Gillespie’s front lawn for five bucks every week. It fucking sucked.

His mother came in, still looking angry, but the second she saw her son laying in the bed in the hospital gown with his casted leg sticking out in front of him, she burst into tears. Mike groaned.

_Not this again._

“Mom, come on, it’s not that bad,” he always felt uneasy when she cried. “I can’t even feel it. And I’m only seventeen, it’s not like my bones are too fragile to heal or whatever. I get it off in a month.”

“That _asshole_ didn’t even stop!” She wiped at her eyes. “I can’t believe he could hit a child and just… leave you there!”

“I mean, I don’t really look like a kid,” he reasoned, just wanting her to stop crying.

He was right, he didn’t really look seventeen, but closer to twenty. His legs were so long that they almost dangled off the end of the bed and his 6’3 frame made it easy for him to mistaken as a full-blown adult. His face was still boyish, but he had a strong jawline and cheekbones, the effect ruined by the childish smattering of freckles and the mop of dark hair that fell into his eyes in a shaggy bowlcut. There were more than a few girls at his high school that thought he was cute, but his nerd status kept him at the bottom of the social pyramid and he had no clue that the occasional stare wasn’t because the was weird, but because he was _cute_.

He couldn’t talk to girls anyways, so maybe it was for the best.

“Mike!”

He looked up just in time to see an X-Men t-shirt coming towards him and then two sweaty arms surrounded him and gave him a rib-crushing bearhug. Another hand gripped his shoulder and between the two Mike spotted Will behind them, giving his friend a grin.

“Boys! Take it easy on him!” Karen commanded. “He’s still bruised!”

The grip slackened and then pulled back and Dustin and Lucas smiled excitedly down at their friend as Will came up and shoved his way through. Despite the rather dreary circumstances, they all looked happy. Or maybe just relieved that he was alive and not just a smear on the asphalt. Either way, they had come to visit. Of course.

“Dude!” Dustin poked the cast. “This is _crazy_!”

“A little,” Mike agreed, figuring it wasn’t exactly usual.

“Does it hurt?” Will asked, eyes concerned.

“Um, not right now, they numbed it up for the surgery and also I’m on a painkiller so I feel pretty good.”

“What kind of painkillers?” Lucas perked up. “Is it something good?”

“Um—”

“ _Okay_ , boys, why don’t you all sit down and _take turns_ ,” Karen quickly interjected. “And easy on the questions about narcotics.”

The three boys did, sitting in the chairs and letting Mike tell the story, how he’d been crossing Maple and the car had come out of nowhere and hit him straight on, snapping his leg. He didn’t really remember being hit, but he remembered flying and feeling something crack and then staring up at the sky as an old woman in a robe bent over him and asked if he was okay.

Then the air had come back into his lungs and he’d sat up, looking down at his leg. Or rather, looked sideways at his leg, since it was bent, right above the knee. Where it was definitely not supposed to bend.

He had passed out after that and woken up in the hospital with his mother hysterically trying to get the doctors to tell her what had happened. It was a fracture to his femur that required lots of rest to heal, and a minor concussion that they were monitoring. Overall it wasn’t that bad, but he’d need some physical therapy to get his leg back to normal and was told he would have to take it easy for several months. There was a chance of cramping and pain but if he managed to regain the strength in his leg it would be less likely.

“So when do you get out?”

Mike looked over at Will. “Day after tomorrow. I have a concussion so they want me to stay but honestly I feel fine…”

“Aw, man, do we have to cancel the campaign this weekend?” Dustin whined.

Lucas smacked him on the shoulder with a frown, like he couldn’t believe it was even a question. How was their Dungeon Master supposed to narrate a campaign in this state?

“Of course, dumbass, Mike needs to rest and heal and stuff, he won’t have time for that!”

“Well, I mean, maybe—” Mike started.

“He broke his _leg_ , Lucas, not his head! Why can’t he DM?”

“Why are you always so selfish? Give him a break, he got hit by a car!”

“Too bad _you_ didn’t get hit by a car, maybe it would have scrambled your brain into something that actually works.”

“I’m gonna kick your—”

The two started to try and wrestle each other out of their seats and Will gave Mike a tired look that said “You better not leave me alone with these idiots for too long”. There was a sudden pang of pain and Mike winced, looking down at his leg. The numbing was starting to wear off and there was a dull ache that made him want to grit his teeth. His mother noticed.

“Alright, boys, I’m glad you all came but I think Mike needs to rest now,” she told them, her voice full of the usual ‘I’m not asking, I’m telling tone’ she used when their sleepovers got too rowdy. “Why don’t you come visit him when he’s at home? We could set him up in the living room with that game you have—”

“My Atari?” Dustin piped up.

“Yes, that. It’ll be great. But for now, you all should head home.”

They slowly got up, going over to Mike and giving him loving slaps on the shoulder and ruffling his hair which he hated but was powerless to stop. There was a chorus of goodbyes as they shuffled out of the room and Mike grinned after his friends. He had been friends with them forever and even though they could have pitied him and made him feel worse, they’d successfully lifted his spirits instead.

The feeling didn’t last.

His pain meds helped to keep the pain at bay, but they also made him restless and he woke up several times that night, hardly able to roll over due to the cast. It was embarrassing that he had to call a nurse to help him pee, but after almost falling trying to use the crutches, he gave in and let them help.

The morning sun was just starting to light up the room and he felt totally confined. His mom had brought him pajamas so he didn’t have to wear the gown, but even the comfort of his favorite pair of Yoda pajama pants weren’t enough to help him sleep. But they wouldn’t let him leave his room and he knew it, glancing several times at a wheelchair that had been left just outside of the door.

Like it was waiting for him.

It was a stupid idea and he knew it but he was desperate enough not to care, lunging towards the wall and managing to totter over. He grunted, leaning heavily against the beige wallpaper and trying to keep his weight on his good leg. The hallway was quiet, the early morning keeping the bustling families at bay. He leaned against the wall for a solid minute, panting at the effort, before easing himself out the door, eyes focused on the wheelchair. By some miracle it had been placed facing him and after estimating the distance and angles—it was all just geometry, afterall—he moved.

If anyone had been around to see it, they would have applauded, he was sure, twirling with the grace of a prima ballerina and falling directly into the wheelchair. It scooted back a few inches from the force of his landing, but overall it was a damn good maneuver and he wondered why PE couldn’t be more calculating and less running.

“Yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist.

There was a scuffle and someone from across the hall stuck their head out, frowning at him.

“Shhh,” she grumped.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

It took him longer to adjust the wheelchair, putting up one of the stirrups to support his cast, but after fidgeting for a few minutes he got it set up.

“Fuck yes,” he mumbled to himself as he started pushing the wheels and moving down the hallway. “Finally.”

He didn’t really know where he was going, but it just felt good to get out of the room and, surprisingly enough, most of the nurses didn’t really give him a second look. Either they didn’t know he was supposed to be on bedrest or didn’t care, and he grinned as he flew down the hallways.

They soon opened up and he reached the center of the hospital, a sort of courtyard looking thing with a fountain in the middle and a few trees around the edge. The ceiling was glass panels that let in the sun, the pale morning light filling the space with a soft ambience. One one side was the cafeteria and on the other the gift shop, the whole space feeling almost like a mall.

But it was the fountain that caught his eye. Or rather, who was sitting on the edge of it.

It was a girl, one he’d never seen at school or around town before, with wavy blonde hair, her face half-hidden behind the copy of The Hobbit she was holding. She was wearing a blush pink dress and white tube socks, the combination a bit off-putting, her skin pale in the soft morning light as she sat cross-legged. He swallowed.

The book lowered and her eyes caught his, the brown depths warm, and he felt his mouth gape open slightly, staring at her, his heart suddenly racing. His wheelchair was still moving, towards her, and he frantically tried to think of something to say, something about The Hobbit that would be funny and cool.

_Crash!_

The next thing he saw was the floor as he catapulted from his wheelchair and landed flat on his stomach, arms spread out. The courtyard area was sunken into the floor by two steps but he’d been too distracted to notice and lay on his face, trying to catch his breath and wondering if he’d just suffered another concussion.

“Jesus, are you okay?!”

There was a soft hand on his shoulder and he rolled over onto his back, wincing as his cast thunked against the floor. Suddenly his leg was throbbing and he realized that falling face first probably hadn’t helped his fracture. But what was even worse was the fact that the cute girl sitting on the fountain had seen the whole thing and was now staring down at him, her brown eyes huge with alarm.

 _Oh, they’re hazel_ , he thought intelligently. _That’s pretty_.

“Do I need to get a doctor or—”

“No!” he coughed. “No, can you just… I’m not supposed to be out of my room. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Oh,” she hesitated, but then continued to help him, trying to get him to sit upright.

He felt stupid, glancing at the overturned wheelchair, one of the wheels still spinning as it stuck up into the air. There was no way he was getting back into that thing without help but there was no way he could ask a stranger—

“Here, let me help,” she told him, reaching down.

She was oddly strong for her size, balancing him on her shoulder as she wrapped his arm around her waist to keep him steady. Mike felt his entire face heat up, trying to focus on shuffling his feet towards the wheelchair instead of the fact that the very cute girl who he had just seen reading one of his favorite books ever was suddenly wrapping her arms around him. And wrapping his arms around _her_. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and baby powder, clean but warm, and he inhaled sharply, trying to memorize the scent.

“Th-Thanks,” he managed to stutter out.

“Don’t thank me yet, I could still drop you.”

He could feel her knees starting to give out and she barely made it to the step that around the inside of the courtyard before they both collapsed. It was better than the floor and he sat back with a relieved grunt, reaching down to check that he hadn’t cracked his cast during the crash. It seemed fine other than the dull ache from within and he winced again. The mystery girl was righting his wheelchair and putting it back up on the ledge, so it wasn’t obvious he had crashed. She turned back and then set back next to him, looking him over.

“You sure you don’t want me to get some nurses or something?” she asked, noticing his apparent pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not that bad. Just a little achy.”

“Did you break it?”

“Fracture to my femur. It’s a clean break so it shouldn’t take too long to heal but supposedly I’m going to atrophy like a motherfucker,” he sighed then cheered up. “Oh well, I can get out of PE when school starts again. No more coming in last and then collapsing on the floor.”

There was a giggle from beside him and he looked over, pleasantly surprised to see his mysterious savior laughing, eyes lit up with mirth. He grinned at her reaction, gesturing down to his leg.

“I mean, I’m not exactly beefy, I don’t know how my leg is supposed to get even skinnier? I’m gonna snap it in half again the second I get this cast off…” he sighed mournfully. “It’s like I’ll have glass bones, what am I gonna do? You’ll be able to snap me like a pencil.”

The giggle turned into full-on laughter and Mike felt something inside of him glowing happily as she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the cackle. As much as he was enjoying her reaction to his bad jokes, he realized he hadn’t introduced himself and quickly stuck out his hand.

“I’m Mike, by the way. Thanks for not laughing at my total wipeout.”

She shook his hand, smiling slyly. “Oh, I was laughing. You just couldn’t hear it while you were lying on the floor.” Her hand felt cold in his. “I’m Eleven.”

“Eleven?” He quirked a brow.

“It’s a nickname, but it sounds way cooler than Jane Hopper so…” she shrugged. “It’s my lucky number because my life got a lot better when I was eleven, so I used to write it on everything. My notebooks, my shoes, even my skin.” Pulling up her sleeve she showed him a tiny 011 drawn on her wrist. “It didn’t take long for people to start calling me that instead. I kind of like it better honestly.”

“Why is it your lucky number?’ he asked, totally intrigued.

“Um… well, good things happened to me when I was eleven. And, I mean, anyone can be number one, but you put two of them together… and it’s just… simple,” she shrugged again, looking down at the number on her wrist. “But odd. I don’t know. I just like it.”

“Oh. Okay, cool.”

He glanced at her from the side of his eye, taking in her appearance now that he was up close, noticing that her dress seem slightly rumpled, how she pulled the sleeve back down over her wrist when she noticed him looking. He glanced away quickly, realizing he was being rude.

“So, um, why are you here?” he asked, figuring it was a fair question.

There was a pause and she stared down at her hands, avoiding his gaze. Maybe not a good question to ask afterall.

“I’m here with my dad. You guys have a specialist so we came to see if he could help,” she said vaguely.

“Really? We have a specialist in fucking _Hawkins_? Specialist for what?”

“Um, like, brain stuff… it’s kind of complicated,” she shifted away, clearly uncomfortable with talking about it. “His name is Dr. Brenner or something, but we just got in yesterday and haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh.”

Mike dropped it, not wanting to push her when she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. He figured whatever was wrong with her dad had to be serious if they had come to see a brain specialist, but maybe it was a sore subject? He glanced across the courtyard of the fountain, where her book was still laying.

“Do you like The Hobbit?”

“I just started it on the drive,” she confessed. “But it’s really good so far.”

“How far are you in?”

“Um, Bilbo just caught up with dwarves and they’re making camp for the night. There’s some sort of red light?”

Mike grinned, knowing exactly where she was at.

“Shoot, it’s about to get _super_ good. You need to keep reading!”

“Well, I mean, I stopped so I could help the poor idiot who toppled his wheelchair,” she smirked, eyes laughing. “But I could have kept reading if you preferred laying facedown on the floor.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he conceded, grinning again. “I appreciate you interrupting your reading to save my stupid ass. But you really should finish that chapter because it’s amazing.”

Eleven stared at him for a second, looking thoughtful, then nodded and got up, grabbing her book from the fountain and then plopping back next to him. Opening it up, she found her place and started reading it, tilting the book so he could read over her shoulder. He bit back a grin, unsure of why he suddenly felt like doing cartwheels. He literally couldn’t even if he wanted to.

 _Who is this girl?_ he wondered. _She’s like the coolest person I’ve ever met_.

They sat there for the next twenty or so minutes as the sun slowly got brighter, the courtyard filling with warm sunshine as people started to bustle into the area, heading for the cafeteria. Mike didn’t notice, too lost in the story. Eleven was a fast reader and he appreciated not having to wait forever for her to turn the page. She laughed at the trolls and their bickering, like he knew she would, and he couldn’t keep from stealing glances at her face, liking the way it lit up every time she smiled.

“ _Michael Edward Wheeler_!”

The voice was like the crack of a whip and he would have jumped a foot in the air if the cast hadn’t been weighing him down, whirling around to look behind him. His mother was flying towards the courtyard, brow furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, holding a tupperware dish and suddenly he was _very_ afraid.

“M-Mom,” he gulped. “Hey.”

“ _What are you doing out of your room?_!” It was a thunder, echoing around the space. “You are in _so much trouble_ , young man!”

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly.

His mom was towering over him, steam practically coming out of her ears, and he offered her a tentative smile. Part of him knew she was only mad because she was worried about him but she was still awfully terrifying when she was angry.

“What are you doing down there?!” she barked.

“Um, I just wanted to get out of the room for a while,” he tried to be calm, hoping she would do the same. “There was a wheelchair and I couldn’t sleep anyways…”

“So you just _left_?! Without telling anyone?!”

“Yeah…?” he winced.

“That is is _irresponsible,_ you could have _injured_ yourself or—”

She ranted for a bit and he glanced over at Eleven, who looked confused but entertained by the whole situation. Her book was closed and she stood up as his mother started to wind down her rant.

“—the doctor might make you stay longer! Is that what you want?”

“Well…” he knew better than to glance at Eleven and make it obvious, but some part of him was suddenly okay with a few extra days in the hospital.

“Don’t you move a _muscle_ , I’m getting the nurses _and_ the doctor and you are heading straight back to your room, do you hear me?!”

She set the tupperware dish down next to him and turned around in a whirl of styled hair and skirts, vanishing down the hall. He glanced down at the dish, smelling the distinctive heavenly scent of breakfast food, popping it open and smiling at the contents. There was a pile of fluffy, golden scrambled eggs, four strips of bacon, hashbrowns, and two Eggos on top.

“Oh my god, she does love me,” he said out loud.

“Are you sure? She almost tore your head off.”

He startled at the voice, his appetite making him forget about the girl still sitting next to him, who was giving him quite the look. Grinning, he held out the dish.

“You haven’t had her breakfast, here,” he offered her one of the Eggos and a strip of bacon. “Try it. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I’m good…” she tried to protest, despite the glint of interest in her eyes.

“No, come on, please? Trust me,” he pleaded, eyes begging. “It’s like the best food in the universe.”

She assessed him for a moment, then nodded, taking the food from him and biting into it thoughtfully. Her eyes widened and she shoved the waffle into her mouth and smiled happily, chewing like she’d never been more content in her life.

“Okay,” she said through a mouth full of food. “I get it.”

He took another bite and for a second they just smiled at each other as they ate, blissfully munching on the delicious breakfast. They split it evenly, Mike figured it was a fair thank you for her having literally picked him up off the floor, even if they had to share the fork. His mother still hadn’t returned by the time they were finished.

Swallowing the last bite, Mike glanced at the mysterious girl again, deciding to take a risk.

“So, El, um, I was wondering—”

“What’d you call me?” she furrowed her brow and he swallowed.

“Oh, shit, sorry, that’s kind of—um… like El? Short for Eleven?” He tried to play it off, pointing at himself. “See, my name is Mike, short for Michael.”

“Obviously,” she snorted.

There was tense moment where Mike was sure he’d blown it and she would ask him to never talk to her again. But then she smirked, eyes softening, and nodded.

“I’m fine with it. Sometimes my dad calls me Elle-belle. Which is better than Janie, actually.” She didn’t seem bothered, babbling a bit. “So in all aspects El is an improvement and I don’t really mind it. Do _you_ mind it, Michael Edward Wheeler?”

The playful grin was back and his heart skipped, his mouth going dry. Was she… flirting with him? Was it possible? He’d never had a girl flirt with him before… was he imagining the gleam in her eyes, the way she was tilting her head?

“U-Uh, n-nuh,” he grunted stupidly, then swallowed, quickly adding, “I mean, I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you want. I literally don’t care.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” She was grinning and he frowned.

“Well, okay, maybe not—”

“Wheelie boy, you’re funny when you’re embarrassed.”

“Wha— _Wheelie boy_?” he sputtered. “What’s that even—”

“Your last name is Wheeler and you wiped out in a wheelchair.”

He opened his mouth to protest but suddenly there was an entire legion of nurses and doctors next to them, flooding the courtyard and trying to check his vitals. El disappeared behind the crowd and he tried to push them away but they were insistent, muttering to each other and prodding him. His mother appeared and then two of the nurses were helping haul him back into the wheelchair as she talked to the doctor, who didn’t share her immense concern.

“—seems fine, the excursion was probably good for him. Sunlight and laughter,” the doctor, whose nametag read “Sam Owens” smiled cheerfully, “and it seems he was getting a bit of both. Don’t worry, Mrs. Wheeler, if he was feeling worse he wouldn’t have made it this far. It’s a good sign for a teenage boy to want to wander.”

The legion scattered back to where they belonged and then it was just Karen Wheeler berating the nurse on the duty for letting her son out of his sight. El was sitting at the fountain again, her nose back in her book, but she looked back up over the faded paperback, eyes smiling. His mother noticed, sniffing slightly at the strange girl and glancing between the two.

“I see you made a friend?” she asked, though it was a statement and not a question.

“Um, yeah, she helped me get out of the wheelchair.” _Not a total lie_. “Her name’s El, we were talking about the Hobbit.”

“Well, if she’d like to visit she’s more than welcome,” Karen raised her voice enough to be heard. “But if she catches you outside of your room again, it would be smarter for her to _take you back_.”

“Oh come on, Mom, she didn’t know—” _She totally did._ “Don’t blame her, I was the stupid one.”

“Michael, don’t try to—”

“Thanks for breakfast, Mom,” he interrupted, wanting to change the subject. “It was really good and I kind of ate it already. You’re the best.”

She blinked in surprise as she began rolling him away from the courtyard, smiling fondly at her only son. He really did appreciate her, even when she was overbearing, and he had a feeling sharing his food with El had opened up something between them. He hoped.

His mother started talking about what the doctor had told her and Mike snuck a look over his shoulder just as they started to roll out of sight. El was watching them go, her book in her lap. As their eyes met she smiled a small smile and waved. He quickly waved back just as they vanished into the hallway, one word filling his mind as he smiled at nothing, feeling his heart dancing in his chest.

_Wow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my main priority is The Light We've made so i'll try and update this when i have time but it's kind on the backburner. i have the ending and a lot of the middle stuff planned out, i just have to get there writing it but i'm more productive when i have different things to focus on.
> 
> but if you like it let me know cause i try and update depending on what you guys want. the more comments/kudos i get the more i think ya'll like it and the quicker i update cause i like to make you all happy. not trying to like... beg for validation but if you tell me what you want i'll try and get to it.
> 
> anyways, yeah, this one is going to be kind of depressing but not for the reasons you think.
> 
> happy new year!  
> -g


	2. There was this look in your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll liked this more than i thougt you wold honestly. ike it's gonn get depressing even though it's cute and i hope you can handle that cause i like the angst thick. 
> 
> i wasn't gonna post more til i was done writing more but it's new years and i'm three shots of tequila in and fuck it i love ya''l i wanna make you guys happy.
> 
> so here it is, the fucking sowest burn with angst and shit idk i hope nobody hates this it'll have happy ending.

Mike stared at Bob Barker on the tiny TV screen above him and sighed, glancing over at the stack of Popular Science magazines that Dustin had brought him, trying to decide if he wanted to continue to watch TV and be bored, or switch over being bored while reading.

After his stunt the day before, all wheelchairs had been banished from his vicinity and a nurse popped their head in every half an hour to make sure he hadn’t moved. He was pretty sure it was his mother’s doing and while he knew he should stay put and let his body heal, he was even more restless than before.

Every now and then someone in a pink hospital gown or scrubs would pass by his open door and he would jerk his head, half expecting to see blonde hair and pretty hazel-brown eyes smiling back at him.

 _God, stop it, you idiot,_ he scolded himself, _she’s probably with her dad or maybe she even went home. It’s not like she’s going to hang around the hospital waiting for you to appear. She probably forgot you even exist._

Part of him was almost desperate to get back to that courtyard, wanting to see if El was sitting at the fountain again, if she had reached the part in the book where Bilbo and Gollum tell riddles, which was his favorite part. Or talk to her about whatever, really. He was amazed at himself for not feeling stupidly nervous like he always did around girls. Maybe it was because he’d already flipped a wheelchair and reached peak embarrassment? It hadn’t fazed her much and he was still a bit shocked that she’d talked to him at all. And that he’d been able to talk back and joke and make her laugh.

“And the actual retail price is… seventy-five cents!” Bob Barker exclaimed excitedly.

Mike picked up the remote and turned it off with another morose sigh. God, why did everything have to suck? Why couldn’t he broken his leg during the school year when it would have just gotten him out of school?

Well, he liked school, actually. He liked his teachers and he liked feeling accomplished after finishing his assignments, he liked AV Club and joking with his friends at lunch. He didn’t like math that much, though, and he hated PE and he hated Troy. So not having to deal with social aspect of it would have been nice, he could have done his homework in bed anyways.

“Michael?” A friendly nurse appeared, smiling. “It’s time for your meds. Do you want apple, grape, or orange juice?”

“Uh… grape,” he decided.

He reached for the cup of juice and the pill just as disgusted snort sounded from his doorway. Turning to the source of the sound, he felt his heart jump.

“ _Grape_ juice?” El lifted her lip in mock disgust. “What kind of monster are you, Wheelie?”

“El.” His eyes danced excitedly. “Hey! Wait, what’s wrong with with grape juice.”

“Uh, everything?”

A huge grin lit up his face and it was only the nurse prodding him expectantly that made him look away from her. He quickly took the pill and then tried to sit up straighter as the blonde-haired girl walked closer, holding her paperback in her hand. She looked… exactly the same, in the same rumpled pink dress, her hair still perfectly coiffed into face framing waves. Today she had on a pair of white Chucks with her tube socks, and he realized that he hadn’t noticed her lack of shoes before.

“I finished it,” she told him proudly, holding up the book. “And it was _amazing_.”

“You’re… wait, you read the entire thing in a day?”

“I’m a fast reader.”

“Wow.”

There was a pause as he just admired her, grinning like an idiot. El looked down shyly, rubbing at a scuff mark on the floor with the toe of her shoe, like she didn’t know what to say. Yesterday she’d been witty and straightforward, easing his awkward embarrassment into easy conversation, and she’d seemed unafraid to find his room and tell him about her book. But now she just seemed… shy.

“Um, so, what was your favorite part?” He glanced at the book in her hands. “I mean, _I_ know what the best part is, but I want to know what you thought.”

“Oh, the part with the riddles? ‘Riddles in the Dark’ with Gollum?” She shivered but smiled happily. “It was creepy but super fun. I even figured out some of the riddles…”

“Yes!” He fist-pumped. “I knew I liked you!”

Her delicate brows flew up and Mike felt the sudden urge to shove his foot as far into his mouth as possible, cast and all. Yeah, he kind of liked her like that, but he had meant as a friend. His face was suddenly a thousand degrees and he fumbled with the remote he’d been holding, trying to find words.

“U-Uh, I meant as like, a person, um, not—” he flushed even brighter. “Not that you’re not cool! I mean—” He covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. “I’m sorry I’m so goddamn awkward. It’s like my superpower, I can make any situation super awkward without even trying.”

There was a soft laugh and he dared to peek out from under his hands. She was grinning, holding her book to shield her face, like she was embarrassed to be laughing. Then there was a snort, like a pig-snort, and Mike felt himself laughing too.

_She is super fucking cute, holy shit._

“Um—”

“S-Sorry. I just… an awkward superhero?” Clearly she was picturing some bizarre version of him in spandex in a cape, appearing during awkward dates and silences. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything that lame.”

She threw her head back as she laughed, leaning against the wall before stopping to catch her breath, amazed at how stupidly funny it was. Encouraged, he tried to keep it going, pouting like a small kid would.

“Really? You’re going to make fun of my superpower? Do you have something better?”

“Telekinesis,” she stated confidently. “Like Jean Grey? Or… I mean, if I had a superpower that’s what I would want. Way better than being awkward.”

“No, wait.” He tried to decide if he wanted to ask her about X-Men or argue that if he could _choose_ a superpower, it wouldn’t be awkwardness. “I’m not saying that’s the superpower I would _want_.”

She shook her head. “Too late now, you’re already awkward.”

“But—no, wait I’m not—I mean, it was a joke! If you get to pick telekinesis, than I get teleportation,” he argued. “And, back up a second, you like X-Men? Do you read comics?”

“Obviously.”

She relaxed and he realized getting her to talk about books immediately made her comfortable no matter how awkward the situation, immediately getting into which X-Men arc were their favorites. After a few minutes she sat down on the end of his bed, still several feet away, but her hip pressed against his ankle—his good ankle—and he felt a strange kind of warmth slowly spread from the spot and into his entire body.

They debated Magneto and Professor X, went into the sins of Wolverine, and commiserated that as much as they liked Jean Grey, she had some serious character flaws.

She slowly scooted closer towards him, until she was at his waist, talking animatedly. He was explaining the importance of Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver being Magneto’s children when the stack of Popular Science magazines caught her eye and she reached over, shifting through them with apparent interest. He would have been butthurt that she wasn’t listening, but he was suddenly curious if she liked Popular Science too.

“Oh, do you like those?”

“I’ve read one or two. They’re kind of—” She froze and her eyes got huge as she stared down, at the magazine she’d uncovered. “Um, these are yours?”

“Yeah, I mean my friends brought them… why?”

He looked over and felt his jaw drop. She’d been looking through the stack, reading the covers, but what she was staring at was definitely _not_ Popular Science. Some bikini-clad women was lounging on the cover, the word “Playboy” splashed behind her giant blonde updo. Mike felt his face catch on fire.

“That’s not mine! Fuck, I’m going to _murder_ Dustin and Lucas what the fuck were they thinking,” he fumed, completely embarrassed. “I don’t—That’s not the kind of thing—I don’t look at that shit, I swear, my friends are so fucking stupid, I’m sorry.”

He tried to shove the offending magazine back under the stack to hide it but ended up shoving it off the side table. It landed on the floor, open, and El bent down to pick it up, trying to help, but ended up getting an eyeful of the centerfold. She grimaced and quickly shut it, setting it back on the table, gently scooting it to the bottom of the stack.

Neither of them could make eye contact and there was a long silence as Mike tried to think of something to say, sure that his face was about to burst into actual flame.

 _I’m going to kill them, I’m going to kill them,_ he thought with a silent groan.

“Wow, you really are awkward,” she said after a moment. “I thought you were over exaggerating but…” She seemed amused but not disgusted. “You really weren’t kidding.”

He smiled painfully. “That’s me, the human awkward silence.”

“I’m sure you’re the life of party,” she grinned.

It broke the tension and he was once again amazed by how much she didn’t care that he could barely speak when he was embarrassed. In fact, based on the way she was smiling at him, she almost seemed to—dare he think it—like it?

_Who is this girl and how the fuck was I lucky enough to meet her?_

They had been talking for hours and he didn’t even realize it was lunch until the nurse appeared holding the tray. It was a male nurse and he glanced between the two teenagers, his gazing lingering on El.

“Jane, right? Have you had your lunch yet?”

She tensed, her eyes going wide, and she jumped off the end of the bed, glancing up at the clock on the wall. Mike felt confused, wondering why someone asking if she’d had lunch was such a big deal. Maybe she was anemic or something?

The nurse seemed just as surprised and El ran to the door, like she was trying to get away before he could say too much.

“El, wait!” Mike pleaded, unable to get off the bed and chase after her.

She froze, but didn’t turn around, standing still in the doorway.

“Um,” Mike felt stupid, unsure of what to say. “Can… I mean, um, I’m leaving tomorrow. Around noon? Is it—I mean, could I maybe—” He glanced nervously at the nurse, the audience making him stupidly nervous. “Will I get to see you again?” he blurted.

She looked over her shoulder at him, and her eyes were soft, her teeth gnawing at her lip thoughtfully. After a moment she nodded and he felt himself unclench, exhaling in relief. It was too nerve wracking to try and ask for her number with someone else in the room, but he wanted to try before he left.

He _had_ to see her again.

“I’ll visit you tomorrow, before you leave,” she assured him quietly.

“Oh, okay. Cool, um… see you then.”

“Bye, Wheelie Boy.”

He blinked and she was gone, disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared and he felt himself sigh. Tomorrow. He could ask tomorrow.

_Wait does she even have a phone number?_

The nurse started to leave, deciding whatever had just happened wasn’t worth wasting time, but Mike cleared his throat, wanting to ask a few questions. Apparently the nurse knew who El—or Jane apparently—was.

“So, um, do you know that girl?” he asked carefully.

“Jane? Yeah, she’s over in the neuro ward, with her dad. I think she came in a few days ago…”

“Is she around a lot?” He couldn’t hide the hope in his voice.

“She stays here, both she and her dad. I think he’s trying to fix up some old place out in the woods that belong to his grandfather, that’s what he was telling me, so they can actually move to Hawkins.” The nurse shifted carefully. “For the treatments. But I can’t say too much about that, hospital policy.”

“Okay, well, um, thanks.”

“No worries.”

He bustled out of the room and Mike was left pondering his words. So they were going to move to Hawkins for good? So her dad could get his treatments? Whatever was wrong, Mike hoped it wasn’t too serious, but the thought of her permanently living nearby made him want to wiggle with excitement.

 _Maybe she’ll be at Hawkins High in the fall, for senior year._ He could definitely picture hanging out with her between classes in the hall, or during lunch. _The guys would totally love her, she’s super cool. Holy shit, maybe this school year won’t suck._

Glancing out into the hallway to make sure that there wasn’t anybody nearby, he fist pumped in celebration, letting out the little shoulder wiggle he’d been trying to contain. He was grinning, closing his eyes happily as did a sitting down happy dance.

She was some kind of mystery dream girl, pretty and funny but she liked comics and The Hobbit and didn’t think he was a total loser like every other girl he’d talked to. There had to be some sort of catch…

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's slike so much fuckin backstory i have to fix but idk i'm drunkn enough to just let it hoppen odn't worry i'm like legal dont' drink undreage kids, that's a bad choic.
> 
> okay i love you all but his might have ben a bad idea idk i'll decid ein the morning. if you like it drop me a comment and i'll see if i ca'nt shove out another chapter sooner idk this one is still on the backburner but ay'll motivate me and i have to give you what you want i love you so mcuh.
> 
> happy new year!  
> -g


	3. But don't leave me with no direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it's been like a really long time for this fic. i never intended to abandon it but the original direction i had in mind for it i ended up not... feeling comfortable writing. it would have been an important story but i just don't think it's for me to tell. 
> 
> good news is i've spent the last several months thinking up a new way to keep the story going. i'm still working on it though, so it's going to be slow goings. when a chapter hits me, i'll write it, edit it, and try and get it posted. but i'm still working on burn as well as some other projects and some personal stuff. trying to get that book i've always talked about writing started heh. 
> 
> so it may be an update once a month or less. i'm not sure. i have to research some stuff so my idea doesn't just come out of my ass but y'know how it goes. i hope you guys won't mind... i mean, better something than nothing right? heh.
> 
> anywhoo i hope you like what i've added and i hope it doesn't come out of nowhere. sorry it's on the shorter side. the chapters are definitely going to get longer once i get through the next few bits, but right now it's still a mystery.

The hallway was bustling, doctors and nurses and people all pushing past each other to try and get to their destinations. It had been like that for hours as Mike stared through his door, eyes searching. Waiting. Hoping.

His mom would be there any minute to take him home but he still hadn’t seen—

“Mike! Buddy!”

He looked up just in time to see Dustin’s chest looming as he came in for the usual bear hug, nearly squeezing the life out of Mike. He wheezed, trying shove the suffocating smell of 99 cent burritos and old comic books out of his face, making Dustin relax his grip.

“Oh, hey, Dus—”

“Wheeler!” Lucas was there too, pounding him on the shoulder. “I bet you’re glad to see us.”

“Uh, well—”

Saying no would require an explanation and he wasn’t ready to tell them about her yet. She was still his secret and he didn’t want to share her yet. Not until he knew for sure that she wouldn’t just become a dream. That the last two days weren’t totally just his mind making shit up.

No, he wouldn’t tell yet. Not until he was _sure_.

“Yeah, of course,” he conceded, glancing over Lucas’s shoulder, past Will who was behind him, towards the doorway. “But um, why are you here?”

“You’re getting out! You’re free!” His words said “duh” so he didn’t have to.

Dustin butted in, grinning. “Yeah, Mike, who else would you want to herald your way home? And we brought you shit to—”

“If there’s another Playboy hidden somewhere I will seriously kill off your character in every campaign for the next three years,” Mike interrupted flatly.

“Oh, come _on_ ”

There was an argument that he vaguely listened to about how good of friends he had for even bothering to try and help. He was still too busy trying to see past them, his obvious distraction making Will step closer, blocking his line of sight. Mike sighed and gave up, feeling oddly hollow.

Maybe she had decided he wasn’t worth talking to anymore. She had said she would come but… maybe he wasn’t that important. And it was weird anyways, how he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It felt almost _creepy_ , but the image of her face wouldn’t fade from his mind and the more he thought about her the more… familiar she seemed. Something in the eyes, the curve of her lip when she smiled. It was like the rest of his body knew her but his brain couldn’t compute how.

He tried to shake it off, looking up at the familiar voice of his mother.

“Boys, can you make room please?” Karen Wheeler’s command was instantly met as the three teens jumped out of the way, the wheelchair she was pushing making it to the bed. She smiled at her son. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah…” He dully threw his fist into the air. “So excited.”

His mother didn’t notice his lack of enthusiasm. Instead she moved him into the chair, chattering about how great it was that he could go home, how she’d set up his room so it would be easier to move. His friends volunteered to help out and even stay the night so Karen wouldn’t have to help him to the bathroom every time and they began to make a schedule of the week. Honestly it was a pretty sweet deal but he just couldn’t get himself excited right at that moment.

Mike’s eyes were frantically scanning the halls as his mother pushed him, his attention completely taken away. They were heading towards the courtyard to get to the exit and when they turned the corner he let out a disappointed breath. The fountain was empty of her figure, a large middle aged man sitting on the edge and picking his nose instead of the petite blonde.

She was gone. Maybe it _had_ been a dream.

Leaving without getting to say goodbye hurt more than he thought it would. There was no promise that he would ever see her again and damn it, why had he let himself get so attached? This was weird… he needed to stop. He needed to get his head out of his ass and stop moping and acting like some random girl he’d met in a hospital was a good enough reason to be depressed. He’d fractured his leg… _that_ was a good reason to be depressed.

The gift shop caught his eye and an idea sprang into his mind.

“Wait! Mom, wait, can we go to the gift shop?” he asked almost breathlessly, sitting up at attention.

“What? Why?”

“Uh… to get a card for the doctor who fixed me. And uh… I want a… shirt?” He tried not to flinch, hoping she would take the bait. He just needed five minutes...

His mother was behind him, pushing him towards the exit, but paused. He could almost hear her thinking, wondering if it was working. _Come on, just five minutes._

“To remember… um, how great they were. Y’know, be like a mascot for how well they treat patients and stuff,” he tried.

A pause.

“Hmm… that’s not a bad idea. I’m sure they don’t get too many thank yous. We can pick up a card and I’ll come back with some brownies tomorrow. Good idea, Mike,” she patted his shoulder as she pushed him into the shop. He barely kept himself from fistpumping triumphantly.

“We’re going to run to the caf, Dustin’s hungry,” Lucas put in with an eye roll, “we’ll meet you outside when you’re done.”

“Sounds good.”

His three friends wandered out towards the cafeteria, not really wanting to deal with the Karen’s demands if they could help it. Mike waited for his mom to become immersed in greeting cards before slowly rolling himself to the front counter, trying to make himself look pitiful. The woman behind it was older, with permed grey hair and she smiled at him warmly.

“Did you need something, honey?”

“Yeah… do you have like a paper and a pen? I… I’m leaving today but I didn’t get to say goodbye to my friend,” he ducked his head shyly, fidgeting with his shorts. “I was hoping to leave her a note… if you could help me?”

He dared to glance up and the woman’s brow was furrowed in sympathy, her hands searching for an old receipt and a pen.

“Of course, honey, here, you can have this.”

“Thank you so much.”

He was a shit actor, Dustin was better, but it had worked, thank fucking god. Taking the paper from her, he gave her a wide grateful smile, noticing how she melted and smiled back. Older woman were easiest for some reason, maybe because he’d had so much practice bullshitting to his mom. He focused back on the task at hand, quickly scribbling a note and then folding it in half, writing “Jane Hopper” on the outside and sliding it back across the counter.

“I’m not sure what her dad’s room number is, but they’re staying in the neuro ward. Could you maybe make sure she gets that?” He blinked his eyes hopefully.

The woman put a hand on her heart and dimpled. “Of course sweetheart, I’ll make sure. You go home and heal up now.”

His mom came up behind him before he could respond but he shot her another smile that said “Thank you” as they paid for the cards. Another whirl through the gift shop and then he was outside being loaded into the station wagon with the help his friends and his mom. He had to sit in the back diagonally so his cast would fit and he sighed heavily, feeling better about leaving but still morose, the reality of just how cumbersome the next few weeks were going to be hitting him. Stupid cast. At least he would be back in a week for a check up. And then two and a half weeks after that to get the cast off.

That’s what the note had said. He hoped it would be enough.

As they pulled away, he glanced over his shoulder, through the back window, watching the front doors and wishing he could have stayed a few more days. He squinted, seeing a pink and yellow watercolor blob appear through the glass door, barely more than a pastel smudge through the murky glass.

They turned the corner and when he looked back it was gone.

&&&

He should have waited longer before telling them, but he’d been too eager, hoping they would be able to help him solve the mystery.

“So you’ve been talking a _girl_?” Dustin looked stunned. “Like an actual, real girl?”

“What other kind of girl is there, Dustin?” Lucas snorted from his place on the couch.

Mike was immediately regretting telling them about El. But he hadn’t been able to help it, she was just too cool and even though he didn’t want to admit… he thought about her a lot. The more time he spent with her the more something about her seemed familiar, like he’d known her his whole life and not just a few weeks, not just three encounters. It felt like so much longer.

It was starting to get weird and he tried to ignore that feeling as much as possible, focusing on the simple hope of seeing her again.

He was getting his cast off the next day, but he had seen her at his checkup a few weeks ago, sitting in the courtyard looking just like the first time, waiting. The woman at the gift shop had followed through and his note had made it to her. It had been simple, a few sentences, but she’d received the message.

She had been reading a tattered copy of Anne of Green Gables, the cover so beat up it was almost falling off, sitting cross-legged on the fountain. He was finally good enough at his crutches to not need a wheelchair but she had looked up at the sound of his approach, eyes filling with sunshine, her whole face lighting up.

_“Wheelie!” The odd shyness was gone again, replaced with that teasing laughter and he wondered where it came from. “I got your note.”_

_“Cool. Um, I hoped you would,” he carefully made his way down the stairs to where she was sitting. “You, uh, didn’t make it before I left.”_

_She looked away, down to the book in her hands, and he immediately felt bad. Shit, he didn’t mean to guilt her, it had just been a statement. A true one._

_“Sorry, Mike.” Her voice was soft, and she used his name instead of the nickname. “I tried but I didn’t make it in time. Something… came up.”_

_“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he blustered. It had only been a little over a week since he’d last seen her, but she looked more tired somehow, bags starting to form under her eyes. “I was just worried I’d made you up in my head or something…” His face flushed and he quickly pulled out the book he’d been hiding in his sweaty hands, a last minute idea he’d brought with him. “Um, anyways, I brought you this.”_

_He smiled as he carefully sat down next to her, setting the crutches down and holding it out to her, she took it from him carefully, setting her own into her lap as she looked at the cover. She glanced up at him and he felt the urge to try and catch up with her before he tried to explain the lame book. Be polite or some bullshit like his mom taught him._

_“So… how’s your dad? Did the specialist help?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t prying._

_She stiffened, the book limp in her hands. “My dad?”_

_“Yeah, uh, that’s why you came, right? To see that Dr. Brenner guy… to help your dad?”_

_She was staring at him with wide, unreadable eyes and he suddenly felt stupid. Had he heard her wrong? Was he being rude? Did his breath smell bad or something? Shit, she was totally regretting ever talking to his noisy ass, wasn’t she? He clamped his mouth shut, trying to keep any more stupidity from coming out._

_Her eyes glanced away, her hands fidgeting with the book, and she took a deep breath, shrugging in reply. Shit, okay. Not a good topic to bring up. He made a mental note and sent up a silent prayer he hadn’t just ruined everything. But she finally spoke, voice quiet, and he let himself breathe again._

_“He’s… fine. We’re still figuring things out. He wants to move back here, while we try the treatments, but he’s not sure yet.” She seemed to choose her words carefully. “His dad had a cabin here… he wants to fix it up so we don’t have to stay at the hospital.”_

_“Move… back?” Mike’s brow furrowed. “Did you used to live here?”_

_She dodged the question a bit. “My dad grew up here, in Hawkins. He’s a cop, so he transferred out. It’s one of the reasons we came here instead of going to a bigger city.”_

_“Oh. Well, um, I’m glad you did.” He felt himself turning red, deciding to stop prying and wrap the conversation. “Uh, cause like, you’re cool and I’m glad to have met you. I hope the treatments work.”_

_She sighed heavily. “Me too.”_

_There was a pause that wasn’t so much awkward as it was heavy, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t. He was in no hurry to make her talk, hoping to get know her but not needing to press. What he knew was enough… though he did kind of hope she moved there. And that everything would work out okay._

_He glanced at the book he’d handed her and took it from her, quickly moving away from the personal stuff, wanting to get her to smile again._

_“So, uh, this book kind of sucks, I won’t lie,” he held up the heavy copy of the Silmarillion. “It took me forever to get through it, but there some super interesting parts. Like the Valar? They’re pretty cool, but the language is just…” he sighed._

_“Archaic. It’s tough, but if you like Middle Earth and lore and stuff…”_

_“The Valar?”_

_“Yeah, they’re like… smaller gods? They have different powers, kind of like in Greek mythology, with Zeus and Poseidon?”_

_Her intelligent eyes blinked warmly, taking in every word, and he tried to give her a basic rundown of the book in hopes it would keep her interested. It had taken him the better part of a year to get through it, and it was mostly motivated by a bet he’d had with Dustin. Now that he had read it he appreciated it a lot more, and hoped she’d like it too._

_“—so that’s how Men like… came about. It explains it better but with a lot more words so if you can handle that, I think you’ll like it.”_

_“Do you want to read it together? I’m not busy.”_

_She had looked so hopeful and he opened his mouth to agree, wanting nothing more than to sit next to her and read together. To watch the way her brow furrowed as she tried to understand something, how her eyes lit up when she read something she liked, how her laugh tinkled and chimed when the characters were funny._

_That was definitely what he wanted._

_“Michael? It’s time to go.”_

_His mother’s voice called from down one of the hallways and he looked up, heart sinking. Of course he had to go, of fucking course. El noticed how he sighed in disappointment and gently took the book from him._

_“It’s okay, I’ll try and finish before you come back,” she smiled softly, then looked down at her own book, Anne of Green Gables. “Have you read this?”_

_“Um, no…” It was a girly book, he’d always thought. “Is it good?”_

_“My favorite. I’ll lend it to you and next time we can talk about it too.”_

_She had smiled brightly, clearly pleased with her idea, and he nodded quickly, figuring he would have plenty of time to read since he would be laying around in his cast for the next two weeks. It didn’t look too long… unlike the Silmarillion. He internally scoffed at the idea of her finishing the book that had taken him almost a year._

_“Yeah,” he nodded. “Sounds like a deal to me.”_

_“Michael!” His mother’s voice was grating._

_“Coming!” he snarled, before whipping around to face El again, his face much softer as he took her book. “Um, I won’t be back for a few weeks. But I’ll find you.” He smiled. “Promise.”_

_“Promise,” she half-smiled._

_There was a moment where they stared at each other, feeling something warm tingling between them, and he felt the sudden urge to lean forward, unsure why. She tilted too, eyes widening, and then he could feel her breath on his chin as he—_

_“Michael!” It was a command. “We’re leaving now!”_

_They jumped apart and he quickly grabbed his crutches, hauling himself up and trying to calm his burning face. He glanced over and noticed she was more pink than usual, staring down at the paperback in her hands and avoiding his gaze._

_“Um, well, see you, El,” he said, trying to save the situation. “I hope you like the book.”_

_“You’ll like mine,” she said confidently, offering another small wave. “Bye, Mike.”_

He could still see her smile, shining behind his eyes, and it made his chest feel all tingly, like after he drank hot chocolate, warm and sweet.

“What are you grinning at, weirdo?” Lucas scoffed. “Thinking about your imaginary girlfriend?”

“She’s not imaginary! Or my girlfriend!” he quickly snapped. “She’s just a really cool girl who might be moving here. I thought I’d be nice and tell you assholes about her but clearly that was a mistake.”

“Is she hot?” Dustin quipped.

Mike felt his face turn red in outrage. Yeah, she was pretty, but what did it matter? There was a pang of odd insecurity, maybe jealousy, and he quickly swallowed it, finding it ridiculous.

“She likes X-Men and the Hobbit and that’s all I’m going to say. She’s blonde,” he shrugged, hoping his voice didn’t give away how he actually felt. “And she likes pink. That’s all I know so far, but I’m going to see if she’s around tomorrow.”

“So you can show her your shrimp leg after you get your cast off? It’s gonna be a twig.”

“Fuck you, Dustin.”

They were at the Byers’ playing Will’s Atari, two at a time, and it was currently Dustin and Lucas at the controls, the only reason they weren’t full on persecuting him. Will was in the bathroom but he came back, interrupting the rather uncouth conversation.

“What did you say her name was?” he asked, much more kindly than their other two friends.

“Um, well her nickname is Eleven, but I call her El for short—” Dustin made kissing noises which Mike pointedly ignored. “But her name is Jane. Hopper.” That sounded right. “Yeah, she said it was Hopper and that her dad had grown up here but I’ve never heard of him.”

“We could ask my mom,” Will suggested.

“Um, sure if you want—”

“Mom!” It was a bark. A loving bark.

There was a rustle and Joyce Byers appeared from the kitchen, holding a cigarette and a stack of letters in her hand. She looked tired, as usual, still wearing her vest from Melvald’s, but she smiled at her son and his friends.

“What do you need, baby?”

“Did you know anyone named Hopper?”

Her eyes widened, tinging with some unreadable emotion and she nodded. “Jim Hopper?”

“Um, we don’t know his first name,” Will shrugged.

“He’s a cop,” Mike put in, and Joyce nodded.

“Yeah, that’s him, he was in my class back in high school. We knew each other, but he went off to police academy after graduation and came back four years later. With a wife and a little girl, right after Lonnie and I got married,” she crossed her arms. “Why?”

“Oh, there’s some girl at the hospital that Mike likes—”

“Hey!” Mike protested.

“And her last name is Hopper,” Will finished, grinning slyly. “Jane Hopper. Was that his kid?”

Joyce suddenly looked away, letting out a heavy breath. Clearly she knew things, but wasn’t sure what to tell her teenage son and friend. She shifted and then sighed, shaking her head.

“No, his daughter’s name was Sara and she died when she was six. Here, in Hawkins.” She waved her hand, like she was waving away smoke. “It was before you were born, Will, it was cancer, the nasty kind. He and his wife split up and he moved to New York to be a big time cop… but he wasn’t exactly…” she tried to say it delicately. “He was self-destructive and hurt a lot of people before he left. I didn’t think he’d come back.” She frowned. “And with another daughter. Your age?”

She seemed troubled by that more than anything, that she hadn’t known he was back, but quickly shook herself out of it.

“So you’ve never heard of a Jane?” Mike asked, a last attempt to get some sort of answer about the mystery girl.

Joyce looked thoughtful, her brow furrowing like she’d had a sudden thought. Then her eyes became guarded and she shrugged. She wasn’t a gossiper and clearly she wasn’t willing to share.

“No. That’s all I know about Hop,” she shook her head and then ruminated on some old memory. “All of that was a long time ago… did you say his daughter was in the _hospital_?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve met her there a few times, um, something with brain stuff. She doesn’t talk about it… I think she’s just scared of losing her dad.”

Joyce’s eyes widened. “Hop has something wrong with his brain? What? Like cancer or an injury or—”

“I don’t know, sorry, she doesn’t like to talk about it,” Mike said quickly. “Um, supposedly they might move here, to his dad’s old cabin or something.”

“That… makes sense. Shoot. Maybe I’ll give him a call and see if he needs any help settling, make sure he’s not dying or something,” Joyce took a long drag of her cigarette. “God knows I haven’t seen him in years. It’d be nice to catch up.”

She headed back into the kitchen without another word, leaving them with pieces of the puzzle but no real answers. Mike wasn’t sure why something about the whole situation was pinging something in his brain, some long forgotten memory. He hadn’t known anything about Hopper, but something about him having a second daughter was weird. It was like Mike could tell he knew something but he wasn’t sure _what_.

“Sorry, that wasn’t much help,” Will shrugged, turning back to the TV where Dustin and Lucas were yelling at each other. “I guess he must have had her later or something, after he moved away? I wonder who her mom is?”

“She’s never mentioned that either…”

All of the questioning made him feel uncomfortable, like maybe he _should_ know more about her, the mystery girl that filled his head. Maybe he would try tomorrow, to see if he could find out more about her and where she had come from.

A thought suddenly struck him and he stood upright, startling all three of his friends.

“You okay, Mike?” Lucas bumped his leg.

“I… I need to finish Anne of Green Gables,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“I have to go, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

There was mild protesting but Mike was already on his crutches, thunking to the kitchen and nearly scaring Joyce as he came in, eyes frantic. She had the phonebook open in front of her, to the hospital section, but he didn’t notice.

“Mrs. Byers,” he was gasping. “Can you give me a ride home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you think please. i feel like the fandom here has been a little dead lately even though lots of good fics have been popping up? if you haven't read anything by LBorealis yet, you should. just saying.
> 
> anywhoo yeah, a comment would be nice, i guess i'm a little nervous since i'm shifting the course rather abruptly but it's the only way this thing is going to get done.
> 
> hope to see you soon
> 
> -g


	4. This happy room will be a lonely place when you are gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back with another chapter. this will explain more, i think, about at least one thing. 
> 
> not a whole lot to say other than i'm sorry in advance lol.

Mike’s room looked like the set of a disaster movie, his clothes were everywhere, his sheets ripped from his bed, every dresser drawer open. The crutches made it harder but he was starting to get frantic, unable to find that book _anywhere_. He hobbled to the door and pulled it open, sticking his head out into the hallway.

“Mom! _Mom_!”

“What?!” She yelled up the stairs.

“Have you seen a copy of Anne of Green Gables anywhere?!”

“What?!”

“ANNE OF GREEN GABLES?!”

There was a pause and he heard her walking up the stairs, appearing at the end of the hall looking confused. He huffed, annoyed, sure that she had put it somewhere since she was constantly cleaning and putting things away. It was just a mom thing but it drove him nuts when he couldn’t find anything.

“A book?”

“Yes,” he was exasperated. “It was really beat up, a paperback? I need… I borrowed it and I have to give it back tomorrow. Have you seen it?”

He hadn’t forgotten to read it… he’d read the first chapter and then he’d sort of fell asleep and it had fallen onto the floor and disappeared. But he had remembered and he was going to finish it before tomorrow when he had his appointment.

His mother squinted thoughtfully, then went over to his bookshelf and pulled a tattered paperback off of it. It had been laying in a stack and he must have missed it, sighing in relief and taking it from her.

“Oh my god, thanks, Mom.”

“You borrowed it?” she seemed curious.

“Yeah, um, from a friend. I promised to read it.”

He opened the cover, inspecting to make sure it was still okay, and blinked in surprise. The inside of the cover was covered in crayon doodles, childish handwriting spelling out “Property of Jane Ives” in pink scribbles. That weird tug in his mind grew tighter and he tried to figure out why it seemed familiar.

“Jane Ives?” He mused out loud. He had thought her last name was Hopper.

“Did you say Ives?”

He looked up from the book at his mother, who was frowning in thought, like the name was familiar to her. His heart sped up. Was this another clue about wherever El had come from?

Joyce had known something but had been unwilling to talk. He loved his mother, but she was a known gossip and he quickly licked his lips, nodding and trying to look interested. The more interested he was the more likely she was to start talking. And after she started talking...

“Yeah, um, Ives. Did you know her?”

“There were two Ives, back when I was teen,” she crossed her arms. “Becky and Terry. They were… from a rougher background.” She paused, like she didn’t want to spill too much but her eyes had the familiar excitement he saw when she gossiped on the phone with her friends. Hook, line and sinker.

“Rough?” He pressed.

“They were white trash, honestly,” she gave in easily. “More so Terry than Becky, I think Terry was older and made all the mistakes her sister didn’t. Lots of… drinking, drugs, you know.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Lots of _rumors_ , I don’t know what was true. They hung around for a few years, then they tried moving to Vegas,” she snorted. “They came back in… ‘68? Stayed a few more years and then disappeared again. Next time they came back, Terry had a little girl, maybe five or six? Cute thing. Brown curls and big eyes. She was in your kindergarten class for about two months, but there were people in Hawkins who made it a bit hard for them to stay and they left again, only for good. I have no idea what happened to them. The little girl, her name was Jane. I remember that because was honestly one of the cutest children I’ve ever seen. Such a shame.”

Mike was trying to piece everything together. There was no way Jane Ives could be El, she was blonde and her last name was Hopper. It had to be a coincidence of some sort, that she had ended up with the book. It was a small enough town. But then there was the other thing…

“She was in my kindergarten class?” he asked, feeling a bit dazed.

“That’s why I remember her. She would have missed picture day and was only there for a few months… in the winter? I doubt she was in your yearbook. You wouldn’t remember her, I’m sure. You had a rough time back then with all those bullies…”

That seemed to end the discussion and his mother looked around the room with a tired sigh, scooping up the scattered clothing and putting back where it belonged. She was glad he would be getting that cast off the next day, so he could start cleaning his own room again. As she bustled around, Mike stared at the name in the book.

There was something there, some memory, or whirl of memories that were pushing their way out of the corners of his mind. Something he’d tried to forget.

Huge brown eyes, tinted with hazel. Staring at him from a swingset. The same eyes.

He grabbed his forehead, rubbing it, wondering what the hell was going on. There was something there, something he knew he remembered but—

“Michael? _Are you listening to me_?”

His mother’s voice really was the shrillest sound on the planet and he winced. She was staring at him, a hand on her hip and he blinked.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, your appointment tomorrow is at three. So make sure you’re ready to go.”

“Right, yeah, I know. Thanks, Mom.”

She left and he sat there in a daze, trying to understand why he knew her, why he couldn’t remember more. He and Will had become friends back in kindergarten… maybe he remembered something?

Mike lunged for the door, forgetting his crutches for a second and thunking against the door, opening it and promptly falling onto the carpet in the hallway. He grunted, not even caring, his mind focused on one thing. The phone, he needed to get to the phone. He needed to call Will. He needed to ask about Jane.

“Michael! What are you _doing_?!” His mother scolded as she came across him laying flat on his face in the hallway, quickly picking him up.

Mike was still gasping, trying to move towards the stairs. “I need to call—”

“No, you need to get in your bed and rest. You’ve been at the Byers’ all day, you need to sit and not move and _heal_. That’s what the doctor says,” his mom chastised as she pulled him up and pushed him back towards his room. “You can call whoever in the morning.”

“But Mom—”

“No, I’m serious. Is it life or death?” She paused, humoring him and he winced, shaking his head, his answer obvious. “Okay, then you can wait until the morning. You need to rest or you’ll have this cast on even longer.”

“Mom,” he protested weakly. “I just need to ask Will a question.”

“Ask him tomorrow.”

It was the end of the discussion but Mike let himself huff loudly, pouting as she helped him back to his bed. She helped him into his pajamas (which he didn’t hate at all) and then tucked him into bed, leaving a glass of water next to his bed and telling him to yell if he had to pee. Now that he thought about it, Will would be staying over the next night, to “help him out” even though he’d be getting his cast off. So far Lucas had stayed over five times, his next door neighbor status making it easy, and Dustin and Will both twice. Maybe he could just ask then, figure it out where there was less a chance of being overheard.

He sighed unhappily but resigned himself to wait. To see if Will could help him unravel the riddle in his brain, of the vague memory of a girl with eyes so similar to the one he’d met. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t quite get it to open up, he needed something _more_. Why wouldn’t it just let him remember?

He tried to sleep but couldn’t.

&&&

Mike stared down at his leg, unable to understand how he was finding any part of himself completely repulsive. Sure, yeah, his self-esteem wasn’t the highest, he was a scrawny nerd that got shoved into lockers and made fun of. Whatever. But he’d never found himself _repulsive_.

The month in the cast had made his leg (somehow) paler and it looked like a dead tree branch, bleached white by the sun and shrunken. He knew the word, the doctors had said it, but looking now he could finally believe it.

Atrophy.

Dr. Owens smiled—as usual—and told him that physical therapy would fix him right up. A few months of exercising and stretching and that twig of a leg would turn back it it’s slightly less twiggy self. But god, he wished he’d brought a pair of slacks instead of shorts so no one would have to see it.

“You’ll be back the day after tomorrow for physical therapy, so try not to strain yourself before then, champ,” Dr. Owens teased.

Mike wasn’t amused, scowling at his leg and then at the open cast laying on the table next to him. The wound from where they’d cut him open during surgery was still puckered and angry, standing out against his pale skin. It was grotesque, he didn’t even want to look at it.

“Yeah… great.”

“We’ll have you back to normal in no time, don’t worry too much.” The doctor’s enthusiasm was grating. “I know it might be a bit more exercise than you’re used to.”

At that Mike rolled his eyes. Okay, that was enough.

“Can I go now? My mom is probably waiting,” he said sulkily, tugging his shorts lower, wishing again that he had long pants.

It was a lie. He’d told his mom three hours when he knew it would be two at most. But he wanted to try and catch El at the fountain again… if she was there. Try and find out if she was Jane Ives… if she was part of his distant memories, the ones that were just barely out of reach, that his fingertips brushed but couldn’t grip. If she could just give him something to remember, he was sure it would all come back.

If it was her.

“Yes yes, you’re good to go. Stay on the crutches, champ, I know it feels good to have your leg back but that noodle will knock you right over,” Dr. Owens patted his shrimpy leg with a grin.

“Okay. Sure.” Anything to get him out of there faster.

He was tired from staying up almost the entire night reading Anne of Green Gables. It had been easy but longer than he’d anticipated and he didn’t read now as much as he used to. But it had been _good_ , and he’d enjoyed the tale of the fiery redhead with a big vocabulary and a bigger attitude. Unfortunately he’d slept the entire morning and had woken up too late to call Will, so the mystery of Jane Ives was still just that… a mystery. Unless she was there, waiting, like she said she would be.

Hobbling down the hallway, he tried to decide what to bring up first, the memory thing or the book? Jumping into the mystery of the past was more appealing but maybe leading in with what she was expecting would be better? Hopefully she wouldn’t notice his gross leg.

The courtyard opened up in front of him and he held his breath as his eyes scanned for her, hoping she would be there. It was emptier than last time, the afternoon quieter than the lunch hour rush, making it easy to see that she was nowhere in sight.

He slowed, feeling disappointed, but quickly shook it off, limping the rest of the way there and then slumping onto one of the steps around the side, leaning back and setting his crutches next to him. For a moment he just sat there, exhaling and twitching nervously, checking his watch. He had an hour and a half until his mother showed up. Plenty of time to wait.

After a few minutes of staring around, he glanced down at his leg, trying to cross his other leg over it. That didn’t work and he frowned, hoping the sun reflecting off his paper white skin wouldn’t blind anyone. He tried to turn his attention to the book in hand, opening it up and staring at the name inside.

_Jane Ives._

It was childish handwriting, sloppy but legible, written in faded pink crayon. A faint flash of memory, of a pink crayon held by a small hand, drawing flowers on a piece of construction paper, next to his own name.

 _Mike Wheeler_.

Who _was_ she? Why couldn’t he remember?

“Wheelie.”

He startled, fumbling and almost dropping the book, snatching it out of the air and then whipping around, towards the sound of the voice. She was smiling down at him and he realized she looked _exhausted_. Her blonde hair was limp, her dress totally wrinkled and her skin was ashy and pale. It had only been two weeks or so since he’d last seen her but it looked like it had been years.

She sat down next to him, holding his book and he tried to pick his jaw up, quickly looking away in an attempt not to stare. Instead he focused on the cover of the Silmarillion in her arms, noting the bookmark shoved a little more than halfway into it.

“You didn’t finish it?” His brow quirked and he dared to meet her eyes.

“No… it’s so _long_ and kind of boring,” she sighed, like she was disappointed with herself. “I was going to ask to borrow it for a little longer.”

“Oh, sure. Of course, El, I don’t mind. You can keep it as long as you need… I know you’re busy and stuff with your dad so it’s no big deal.” He was talking too fast but he didn’t care. “I mean we could even read some now if you wanted, my mom won’t be here for like another hour and—”

“Hey,” she interrupted, frowning. “Are you okay?”

He froze, going stiff, unsure of what to say. Should he just ask? Try and figure out why the hell he knew her even though he didn’t have any sort of solid memory? Would that be creepy? It was driving him nuts but it would be too much.

“Is your last name actually Ives?” he blurted.

She stared at him for a second, face slack, and then her eyes widened in surprise, searching his expression as if she didn’t know how respond. He felt stupid immediately but opened her tattered book, silently handing it to her, the childish handwriting explaining his question. Her mouth shut and she swallowed, then tentatively nodded.

“It was my mom’s last name,” she answered quietly. “I took my dad’s after he… found me, six years ago. I was eleven.”

His mind did the math without thinking. So she was at last seventeen. The same age as him… which meant is mom’s story made sense. They would have been in the same grade. He swallowed nervously.

“Your mom was Terry, right?”

Her head snapped to look at him, eyes widening again. “You knew her?”

“Oh, um, no, my mom kind of did… I… I saw your name and I, uh, sort of said it out loud and my mom… she knew your mom and aunt,” he explained. He paused, unsure, but then pushed on despite his heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest, pounding against his ribs. “She said we were in kindergarten together for a few months…” The words spilled out. “El, did I _know_ you?”

She was staring down at the book in her hands, like she didn’t want to meet his eyes. But why, why was it bad or weird? Didn’t kids make friends all the time, at the playground, at daycare, on vacations? Friends who played with and shared your toys with and then never saw again? Why was there something _there_?

“Yeah… we were… friends.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “Before we had to leave. I came during the fall after school had started and no one would talk to me. But you did… you and… Will?” She finally looked up at him, and he realized she was embarrassed too. And sad. “I probably should have mentioned it… when you crashed your wheelchair. But you didn’t recognize me and it was weird so I didn’t think it—I didn't think that it mattered.”

He frowned, trying to read her and failing. It was awkward to not remember someone, but was it more awkward to remember something and say nothing? And what if she'd been wrong, and he hadn't been who she thought? Shaking his head, he decided it didn't matter, moving on to his next question.

“If we were friends, why can’t I remember you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you don’t want to,” she shrugged. “Bad memories or something.”

“What? No, no way. I bet we had lots of fun, I mean, we were kids. Those are the best times, when there was like nothing to worry about except what the letter of the day was on Sesame Street or when we’d get snacktime,” he grinned, trying to ease the obvious tension with a joke. “And look, we’re friends again. So… if I thought you were cool enough to be my friend back then, I obviously still think that now.” His hand was shaking but he reached over, daring to break the boundary, resting his palm on her elbow. She felt cold, the thin fabric of her dress doing little to warm her up and he frowned subconsciously. “Jeez, you’re freezing. Here.”

His hoodie was off him and he was draping the navy material over her shoulders without really thinking. It was hot summer outside but the hospital corridors were always chilly and he’d worn it to keep warm. His fingers brushed her shoulders, a finger catching a strand of blonde hair accidentally as he pulled away. She seemed frozen, staring at nothing, caught off guard by the sudden kind gesture. It took a moment but her fingers reached up to touch the soft fabric, her hazel-brown eyes locking onto him, looking like she’d seen a ghost.

It hit him.

_“Are you cold? You’re shivering.”_

_It was recess and they were sitting in the corner of the field, where the fences met and made a sort of shelter from the wind. She was shivering, the three layers of shirts messily piled onto her tiny frame not enough to keep away the late October chill. Her huge hazel-brown eyes stared at him, her tiny jaw chattering as she nodded. He slid the jacket off him and quickly draped it over her, still warm. She stopped shivering and smiled shyly, his own face heating up so much he decided the jacket would have been too hot anyways._

_“You can have it. I have a bunch at home, I’ll just tell my mom I gave it to someone who needed it. She says we need to share.” He beamed at her as Will nodded._

_“Thank you, Mike.”_

It was child’s voice and he blinked, coming back to the present where she was still staring at him, the same memory evident in her eyes. What the actual fuck was that?

“Um, I gave you my jacket… when we were little,” he breathed, feeling like his lungs were closing and he couldn’t get enough air. “I… I remember you. I think...” His eyes went up to her hair and he found himself reaching out, trying to understand what was different. “Do you… dye your hair?”

Suddenly she was standing, backing away from him, clutching her book in her hands. There was panic written across her features and he felt it fill his chest too. Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.

“Sorry,” he backpedaled frantically, “that was rude, um—”

“This is a bad idea.” Her chin was quivering and she was shaking her head. “I thought… I mean, I thought I wanted you to remember but…”

Mike tried to stand but his weak leg wobbled and he reached for his single crutch, accidentally swiping it and knocking it to the ground out of reach. Fuck! Everything was going wrong and he was forced to sit and watch the single most interesting, most funny, most beautiful girl he’d ever met in his entire life (twice apparently) back away from him. His heart hit the floor next to his crutch.

“No, El, come on. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it’s like my head’s all fucked up and I can’t… I can’t figure out why I don’t remember more. I know I should but I just _don’t_ … El, c’mon, please. I’m sorry.” He tried to paste a smile on his face, holding out a hand. “We can meet again if you want, start all over. I’m Mike Wheeler.”

She stared at him, and then shook her head again, looking like she was in pain. “I can’t, Mike. You’re still—you don’t deserve to deal with this. Go home, okay? Just forget it. Your leg is better so… go home.”

Her tone was forceful but her voice cracked at the end and she quickly turned away, ready to escape the courtyard. Mike tried to stand again but failed, shoving the heavy book from his lap and then freezing, looking down at it.

“Wait!” She froze, by some miracle, and he quickly held out the book. “At least… take the Silmarillion. You can finish it, okay? Um… and mail it back. But you should finish it, I mean, you’ve read more than half and that took me like eight months and if you want to hate me or whatever that’s okay but you really should finish it.” He paused his ramble to breathe. “Please.”

He expected her to run off and ignore him, but she turned slowly, avoiding his gaze to look at the book in his outstretched arms, some sort of peace offering neither understood. A breadcrumb, maybe, something to keep him from losing her entirely in that moment. There was something there, in her posture, in the way she barely glanced at his face. Then she nodded and carefully closed the space between them, taking it from him and tucking against her chest.

“Do you still live in that big house on Maple Street?” she murmured.

“Uh… y-yeah.” He wanted to ask how she knew but then another memory hit him.

_“And this is Rory, he’s got a speaker in his mouth so he actually roars. Cool, huh?”_

_She was watching, her gigantic eyes glowing as he showed her every single one of his toys, pressing the button that made the Tyrannosaurus in his hand let out a roar. He was smiling so wide his face hurt, handing her toy after toy, letting her touch each one, sharing happily with the tiny girl in the hand-me-down clothes, her wild brunette curls pinned back from her face._

_“Mike, Jane has to go! Her mother is here!”_

_“Aww, but she just got here!”_

_His mom was standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. She sighed. “I know, sweetie, but her mom is here now. She only came over so we could keep an eye on her until we could call someone, remember?”_

_Mike pouted, knowing she was right. His own mom had been late to pick him up, his older sister’s ballet class had gotten out late, and Jane had still been there, staring out the window of the classroom looking sad and forlorn, not knowing if anyone was coming. So he’d invited her._

_“Come on, sweetie, your mommy is excited to see you.”_

_The tiny girl nodded solemnly and stood, walking towards the door before turning to wave at Mike, too shy even say goodbye, the fraying cuff of her sweater bobbing._

_“Say goodbye to your friend, Michael.”_

_He’d waved back, feeling sad, wishing she could stay._

_“Bye, Jane.”_

“Goodbye, Mike,” El said quietly, bringing him back.

The same tight knot of sadness filled his chest and he swallowed thickly, hating seeing her walk away but knowing there wasn’t anything he could really do. He couldn’t even chase after her, his gimpy leg making it impossible. So useless.

He was still confused, wondering why all the memories were coming back _now_. What was happening to him? Was this some sort of joke the universe was playing on him?

He watched as she turned, her pink skirt whirling around her pale knees, watching her walk away.

“Bye,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliffhanger. any guesses as to what is going on? my test reader wasn't sure so i'm kind of worried it'll be too random but i still like where it's going... i hope it's satisfying. but sorry for the ending here. you don't think it's over yet, do you?
> 
> i only have like the first part of the next chapter written so i'm going to try and keep working on that. like i said, when it comes to me, i'll write it, but i'm trying not to force it. luckily i feel a lot more inspired for this one now that i've got it back on track so hopefully it won't take me fifty years lol.
> 
> gimme your thoughts. i'm dying to know how much you hate me and also what your theories are as to what the hell is going on. we're just starting. yay!
> 
> see you hopefully soon  
> -g


	5. Maybe I'm crazy what did I fall into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't love this but i'm hoping now that i got past it i can find the motivation to keep going?? fuck i've hated writing lately and that's probably the most foreign thing i've ever felt. i also had to go out of town for a wedding a few weeks back and it was stressing me out and i still haven't quite made it back onto my feet since then because i got like no sleep and ugh.
> 
> anyways enough of my troubles because honestly they're not that bad, they just feel like it. happy fourth or whatever, america is nightmare but at least we have mileven.

Mike had been moping for _weeks_ and he couldn’t pretend otherwise anymore. Despite getting his hopes up every time he went to the hospital for his twice weekly physical therapy sessions to help his leg, she never appeared. He would linger around the courtyard, eyes scanning the hallways, wishing with every fiber of his being that she would decide she’d made the wrong choice by cutting him out of her life and that she would show up, smiling like a sunbeam.

But then the Silmarillion appeared at at his house, wrapped in brown paper with his name on it and no return address. Not even a note pressed between the pages. No scrap or clue of what was left now. Nothing.

The mystery of who she was had been pulled right out of his hands before he’d even opened the book, a few straggling memories of a tiny curly-haired girl his only clues of the past. Clearly there was more there but he couldn’t remember to save his life.

And honestly? Some part of him was _angry_. It wasn’t fair for her to decide that they couldn’t be friends, that he wasn’t allowed to remember her or let her back into his life. He hardly knew anything about her anyways, and he’d told her _everything_ , but somehow she got to make the call? He hadn’t even done anything _wrong_ … he just couldn’t remember her as kid. Sort of. Why did that constitute getting thrown out into the cold without even an explanation?

_“I can’t, Mike. You’re still… you don’t deserve to deal with this. Go home, okay? Just forget it. Your leg is better so… go home.”_

It wasn’t an explanation and it wasn’t _fair_ and as much as he tried to let it go he just… couldn’t. The bit of angry hurt festered inside of him as the weeks went on, his stubborn pride too wounded to let him do the easy thing.  So instead of seeking her out like maybe he should have to try and clarify and apologize, he sat at home and stewed in his self-pity, feeling butthurt but not wanting to admit it. If she wanted to pretend like there hadn’t been… something… between them, then fine. He didn’t care.

It was the arrival of the Silmarillion in the mail that finally broke him. Sort of. It made him finally bring it up to the one person that he knew… _knew_.

“Will?”

They were at the Byers’ again, watching the latest Indiana Jones since Mike still wasn’t up to bike riding or long distance walking and everyone was too busy to give them rides. His mom had dropped him off at lunch but Lucas and Dustin were mowing the lawns Mike was _supposed_ to be responsible for, another reminder that his broken leg had ruined everything.

“Yeah?” Will didn’t look up from his sketchbook, still holding his graphite pencil for the next stroke. He always sketched during movies, pages and pages of Star Wars battles and characters filling the book.

“Um, this might seem weird, but we did we know a Jane in kindergarten?”

The pencil paused and the smaller teen looked up, expression guarded. He set his book down and turned to look at Mike fully, narrowing his eyes, like he was trying to read his friend. Mike felt confused, unsure why the question—the one he’d been too sulky and angsty to ask earlier—was getting him such a reaction. He blinked at Will and frowned moodily, “What?”

“Um, nothing it’s just…” Will grabbed the remote and paused the movie, looking more amazed than anything now that he realized it wasn’t a joke. “Do _you_ remember a Jane back in kindergarten?”

“Sort of?” Mike made a face, somewhere between a grimace and frown. “Like… I remember giving her my jacket at recess. And she came over one time when her mom was late to pick her up…”

“Oh, wow, you _do_ remember.” Will was staring with wide eyes. “Is that it? Anything else?”

“Uh… no,” he winced. “I wish I did but I just… I _can’t_ and I don’t know why. It’s like some things come back but most of it is behind this brick wall…” He shook his head, trying to get to the point of it. “So, um, if you remember her… that’s El. The girl from the hospital. She’s Jane Ives.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah, um, I asked her about it and that’s why I could remember. I gave her my hoodie at the hospital and it was like—bang! I remembered. And then she asked if I still lived on Maple Street and boom—another one,” Mike shook his head, unable to understand why only the two memories had come back. There were other bits of blurry pieces, her tiny hand holding the crayon and drawing flowers, her eyes staring at him. He paused as another thought struck him, this one about his best friend. “Wait, if you knew about her, why haven’t you ever brought her up?”

The smaller boy looked away almost nervously and then sighed, getting up off the floor and sitting on the other side of the couch, facing his friend. He seemed serious and Mike puzzled why this was all so weird. How come Will could remember her but he couldn’t? Why had they never talked about her before?

“Mike… do you remember being like, really sad? Back in kindergarten?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. Because of the bullies. Troy was mean to me back then and I was really sad about it…” He shrugged. “That’s what my mom said anyways.”

“No, you weren’t sad because—well, I mean, Troy picked on us back then too but not that much… not enough that we cared.” Will paused to let that sink in. “You were sad because she left, Mike. Jane just didn’t come to school one day and we didn’t know why. You were like… traumatized. At first you wouldn’t believe it. When I mentioned she was gone you’d just say she would come back. But she didn’t. You had like… kiddie depression. For _months_.”

“What? No… I just… didn’t talk to anyone but you,” he protested weakly. “And then I started feeling better.”

“Yeah but you had to go see some doctor and then you just… forgot about her. I’d try and bring her up and you’d just look at me with this… blank face. It scared me, Mike, I didn’t know why you wouldn't talk about it. But I just… stopped asking. It was weird but I didn’t know what to do so I just… stopped.” Will sighed again, fiddling with the hem on his shorts. “You never talked about her again so… I sort of forgot about her too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this when I asked your mom about her dad?” Mike’s tone was accusatory and Will held up his hands in defense.

“Hey, you just said her name was Jane,” he pointed out, his tone pointed. “There’s probably a ton of Janes… I didn’t actually meet her at the hospital. All you said was that she was blonde and her last name was Hopper. That’s totally different from the little kid I remember.”

It was perfectly logical. There was no reason for Will to assume the Jane at the hospital—though Mike still thought of her as El—was the same Jane from their kindergarten days. Mike sighed and tried to not be upset at his friend, who was in fact innocent. If Mike could barely remember her now, why would he have remembered her before? It wasn’t Will’s fault.

“Sorry, Will, you’re right. I’m just… frustrated I guess. I don’t know why I can’t remember and it’s making me feel _crazy_.” He sighed heavily, feeling the heavy weight in his lungs as he remembered his last glimpse of El—walking away from him. “And she stopped talking to me and stuff so—”

“Oh is that why you’ve been depressed? What did you do?”

“Nothing! That’s… that’s the weird part. I mean—Well, okay I asked if we knew each other and she admitted it but then all I did was ask if she dyes her hair and then I gave her my hoodie because she was _freezing_ and I had the memory—” He cut himself off and sighed morosely, replaying the moment over again, like he had been for weeks. “She just stood up and told me to go home. I don’t know why.”

Will nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re right, none of that is really offensive or anything. Unless she’s sensitive about her hair… or maybe the hoodie was too much?”

“It was just a hoodie,” Mike protested.

They both sat, thinking for a while and then Will shrugged.

“I don’t know, Mike. It’s weird but not any weirder than you not being able to remember. Maybe you could go and apologize or something?”

“For _what_?”

“I don’t know, whatever you don’t know you did wrong. Girls like that,” Will shrugged again, clearly as clueless as Mike. “That’s what Jonathan says works with your sister.”

“Gross. Don’t make me think about them.”

“They’re engaged, Mike. Get over it.” It was a teasing jab but Mike shuddered.

“Nuh uh. You never walked in on them. I can’t unsee what I’ve seen.”

“Gross!”

Both boys laughed and the tension eased back into the comfortable silence that usually surrounded the best friends. They really had known each other forever. Lucas had come along in first grade and Dustin in fourth, but sharing kindergarten had always made the two just a little bit closer. Mike trusted Will more than anyone else—their engaged siblings would soon make them almost-brothers and it had been something they’d been looking forward to, the wedding next summer.

But for now Mike was still stuck on the riddle of the girl at the hospital, sighing heavily as his best friend watched. Another thought struck the taller boy.

“Wait, so, if I can’t remember her in kindergarten… why do I still remember you? I swear I remember giving _you_ my jacket and stuff…” Mike shifted on the couch, dodging eye contact, feeling weird in a way he didn’t understand. “After your dad… left.”

“My mom kicked Lonnie out in first grade, Mike,” Will frowned. “Before that it sucked at home but like we had food and clothes and stuff. It was first grade that was hard. In kindergarten you did all that for Jane.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He nodded reassuringly, then puckered his brows in thought. “Maybe… Maybe you just repressed your memories of her or something.”

Mike’s brows lifted. “Repressed?”

“Yeah. Like, your brain made you forget it to try and help. That’s a thing.”

“Huh.”

It sounded possible, that his tiny five year old brain had been so shaken by the loss of a friend that it had tucked the memories away where he wouldn’t have to remember. Coping the only way it could. Maybe that doctor had helped—the one who he didn’t remember either but that his mother always talked about. Some therapist. It made sense, at least, and Mike nodded slowly, feeling tired.

“I guess so. It still sucks,” he sighed. “Maybe she wouldn’t have freaked out if I had just remembered in the first place…”

They spent the rest of the time watching the movie in silence as Mike tried to decide whether or not he still wanted to… care. It had been three weeks since he’d last seen her and he figured that she probably didn’t care about him anymore. Maybe he shouldn’t either.

Maybe it was better to just forget.

&&&

The treadmill started to slow and Mike let out a grunt of relief, glancing at his physical therapist from the side of his eyes. The sessions had been helping strengthen his leg, but he hadn’t done so much physical activity in his entire life—that wasn’t biking, anyways, but somehow that was totally different from running.

He kind of liked it.

“Alright, Mike, I think we’re done,” Linda, his PT, said cheerfully. “You’re officially ready to get back on that leg like normal.”

It was officially the last session, his six weeks of therapy and treadmills and stationary bikes was over, and he hopped off the machine and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, panting. Both of his legs felt strong and he was thinking maybe taking up running wouldn’t be so bad if he felt like this more often. Strong, or at the very least, not like a total weenie.

“Thanks, Linda. You’ve been really cool,” he gasped, nodding at the woman who had been motivating him and pushing him to keep going.

She was a small woman with red hair and an almost obnoxiously upbeat attitude. But without her abundant cheerfulness he probably would have given up and he had let her grow on him. He dug a thank you card out of his duffle he’d brought with him and gave her an awkward hug and then headed for the changing rooms to put on his other clothes, ready to go home and take a shower.

His mother was still too paranoid to let him back on his bike so he headed out to the courtyard to sit while he waited for her to pick him up. He didn’t mind, he’d brought the new issue of X-Men and liked sitting inside where it was cool. For the most part he was able to ignore how empty the quiet fountain made him feel.

It was better to let her have it her way. It was better to just… forget.

His stomach rumbled and he headed for the cafeteria to grab a bag of chips and an apple, pulling his wallet out and grabbing a few bucks, trying to decide if he had enough for a gatorade too. He wasn’t really watching where he was going, frowning down at his hand as he walked in, trying to find the five bucks he knew he had in there yesterday.

“Oof!”

He’d barely made it through the one opened door before someone collided with him, someone smaller who bounced off of his solid frame like they weighed nothing. A pink and blonde blur.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t—”

His eyes focused and he felt the air gasp out of his lungs as he realized who was standing in front of him, her hand still resting on his chest as she tried to balance herself. Warmth spread from the point of contact and Mike felt himself flush, felt the familiar nerves and anxiety that always came along when thought about her suddenly appear as he blinked at the top of her head, her blonde hair noticeably tangled and askew. She shifted back, gaining her balance and pulling her hand away.

With it went the warmth. And it was replaced by _anger_.

All the questions he’d been asking, all the hurt and unfairness at the situation she’d put them in, all of the petty bitterness surged up in him as he looked down at the small teenage girl who was tilting her head up, everything feeling like it was going in slow motion.

Her eyes met his, the hazel-brown mix that made his heart skip and filled his head with vague memories, and he watched as her expression went from apologetic to shocked to… a frown.

The anger he’d been nursing in his heart snapped open, the hurt intensifying as she looked at him as if he was some sort of insect instead of a human being with feelings. A human being she’d decided didn’t matter despite the energy between them and the lost memories and the simple bond of friendship they’d created.

“Watch it,” he scowled. “Do you usually ram into strangers?”

Hurt flashed into her eyes like lightning and then a storm cloud filled her face. “No,” she spat.

They glared at each other for a moment, the hostility almost palpable in the air around them. But then Mike realized El was trembling, the pink dress hanging off of her thin frame like a sheet on a clothesline, her eyes sunken into her head, skin ashen and gray. She was clutching a single waffle in her hands, he noticed, suddenly remembering the breakfast they’d shared that first time—well, not actually the first, but the first time he remembered—that they met.

Guilt flooded in and the anger that had hardened his heart to her suddenly faded as he realized how stupid he was being. He reached out, not sure what he was doing, shaking his head.

“No, wait, I’m—”

“Forget it,” she hissed, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t even have time to apologize, and she was gone, darting around him in a flash, her skirt barely brushing his bare leg, a shiver running up his body. The words died on his lips as he turned, but there was no sight of her and he felt his heart plummet.

Why had he been such a _dick_? Okay, sure, he was butthurt, that was true. She’d hurt his feelings by rejecting his friendship and refusing to let him remember—but, damn it, being a total asshole didn’t help.

He wanted to go after her and apologize immediately, but he didn’t know where she went or where to find her. And he couldn’t just show up in his sweaty gym clothes after being rude—she would never believe him. She wouldn’t… would she? The last bit of hope he’d held onto, the idea that maybe their story wasn’t completely over yet… was suddenly gone. He’d just ruined _everything_ and he didn’t even know where to start making it right.

Fuck.

&&&

The roses were pink, the same color as her dress, and Mike hoped she liked them and didn’t think they were totally lame. They hadn’t been his idea, the book he was currently clutching in his sweaty palm had been his idea, but he was currently balancing the cluster of flowers as he opened the door of the car anyways, hoping Lucas’s advice would do him good.

_“I messed up,” Mike moaned. “I was a total… asshole. Like an actual jerk for no reason. I don’t know how to fix it.”_

_Lucas nodded, looking thoughtful. “My dad says when he messes up, he gives my mom whatever she wants.”_

_“But I don’t know what El wants! Other than for me to like… disappear…” His shoulders slumped down and he dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’ll leave her alone, but I just… I really need to apologize.”_

_“What does she like?”_

_“Breakfast food, pink, comics, fountains…” He thought back to the sight of her, sitting on the fountain, glowing in the light of the sun. He sighed. “...sunshine. Oh and books. She reads more than anyone I’ve ever met…”_

_A thought struck him. Books. He sat up straighter as the perfect apology gift came to mind and then he turned to Lucas, eyes shining. “Hey, can you take me to the bookstore?”_

So now he stood at the nurse’s station, clutching a bouquet of pink roses and _Anne of Avonlea_ , the sequel to her favorite book. He really thought the flowers were overkill, but they were soft and pretty, like her, and it Lucas had insisted all girls liked getting flowers no matter who they were from. Even an asshole ex-friend who couldn’t take a hint.

He was taking it now, to be fair. This was going to be it, an apology for being so unnecessarily rude and then he would leave her alone forever to live her life while he lived his. He didn’t want to be one of those dickheads who couldn’t take no for answer… but he wanted her to know he didn’t hold a grudge or anything.

Closure was the word. He’d heard Nancy talk about it when she and Steve had broken up, before she left. They’d managed to talk and sort everything out, no hard feelings, before they both went separate ways. Mike hoped he could at least convince El not to hate him before he abandoned the idea of their friendship for good.

She didn’t want to be his friend and despite how much that stung, he decided it was for the better. Maybe it was better to let it all fade into the past.

“Can I help you?”

A rather tired voice interrupted his thoughts and Mike looked down to see a nurse eyeing his flowers. She quirked an eyebrow and he swallowed nervously, nodding, “Um, yes, I was looking for the room of Jim Hopper? In the neuro ward, I think…”

The nurse picked up a clipboard, sifting through the paper and then shaking her head. “There’s no Jim Hopper. There’s a Jane Hopper, did you mean her?”

“I—I guess,” he frowned, suddenly confused. Wasn’t it her dad that had the weird brain thing?

“She’s in room 174, down this hall, then a right, can you find that?” She sighed, looking at him like she didn’t want to offer help but was obligated to ask. He quickly nodded, wanting to stop being a bother.

“Yeah, I can do that. No worries, um… thanks for the help.”

“Sure.”

Mike made his way down the hall, feeling confused but deciding maybe he’d heard wrong or something. It wouldn’t be the first time his brain had failed him memory-wise. Somehow he could remember two hundred ACT vocabulary flashcards, but when it came to personal details or people’s names… he was basically useless. But still, the hospital getting the name of the daughter instead of the sick father seemed… off.

 _Stop overthinking everything,_ he scolded himself, _you’re a total idiot. That's why you’re here. To try and stop being an idiot and leave her alone._

His eyes slid across the numbers that marked each room, rows of open doors with people inside, some old and grey and wheezing, others with small children that lay listlessly in their beds, not even noticing him pass by. A strange feeling crept up into stomach, something different from the nerves.

Unease.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, spotting the number he’d been looking for and feeling his footsteps falter and then stop altogether. The door was slightly ajar and after another moment of doubting and going back and forth and trying to decide if he should turn and run, he squared his shoulders he stepped towards the door. He’d come this far.

At first he knocked so tentatively there was no answer and after another nervous gulp he tried again, with more conviction. The door creaked open a bit from the force of his knock and he heard a tired sigh.

“You can come in. I don’t even know why you knock anymore…” a voice answered, a familiar voice, that sounded _exhausted_.

Mike frowned and pushed the door open anyways, realizing she thought he was someone else but he would explain soon what was going on and apologize and then never come back so maybe it would be okay to just step in and blurt it out as soon as possible.

Instead he walked in and froze.

There was a girl sitting on the bed, boney legs folded beneath her, but not the one he was expecting. She was thin, skeletal almost, her shoulders poking through the thin fabric of the white hospital gown she wore. Her skin was so pale it made it the flower patterned material seem beige in comparison. His eyes caught on her hair, or rather, the lack of it. Brunette and sheared to the scalp, like it had been buzzed off and was just starting to grow in a bit. But then his gaze reached her face and he felt a jolt of surprise as the hazel-brown eyes that had become so familiar to him looked up from the spread of comics on the sterile white blanket before her.

His mouth fell open. “El?”

She seemed so foreign, but the sight of her looking small and fragile, hair brown, eyes wide, jogged another memory.

_“How come you aren’t eating lunch?” he asked, sitting across the table from the small girl, Will at his side._

_They’d only befriended her that morning on the swings and Will still seemed tentative. He followed Mike loyally but was unsure about the idea anyways. Mike didn’t notice._

_He was too busy watching Jane, as she sat quietly at their table, fingers tracing old crayon marks and scratches. At his question she looked up, her eyes wide, tiny pink mouth twisted into a frown. She was so small, her boney shoulders pushing out beneath her layers of shirts, two long sleeves covered with a Cabbage Patch Doll short sleeve, the dimpled doll face looking as solemn as the one who wore it._

_“I don’t have one,” she said quietly._

_“Oh. Well you can have half of my sandwich. Sometimes I share with Will too. Do you like carrots?”_

_The food had been pushed her way without another thought and she’d seemed weary at first, like maybe he would take it back and laugh or yell at her. But he just smiled and munched on his half of his peanut butter and jelly, watching as she slowly reached with tiny hands towards his offerings._

_She’d all but wolfed them down and Mike wondered if she was so small because she didn’t always get lunch. He’d decided he would always share not matter what._

The memory faded and he was left staring at El, the El he didn’t know, the one that was suddenly so far away from anything he had remembered, or even the one he’d only recently come to know, with blonde hair and bright smiles.

Dots started connecting, why she always wore the same outfit, why she had been so touchy about her dad’s “condition”, why she had started looking so tired. Why she had been there in the first place. Mike was smart—it was kind of his thing as president of the AV Club and resident nerd, really, he could figure things out pretty quickly as long as he had all the clues or the formula or basic directions. He felt the world whirling around him as all the tiny clues, the moments and the conversations and the things he’d been too distracted to notice suddenly became crystal clear. His brain combined that with the sight before him, the IV hooked to her arm and the hospital gown and the lack of hair and he knew.

“Y-You—” he stuttered, too shocked to be able to form the words. “I—”

“Mike?”

His name whispered from her lips and it took a moment for him to realize she looked utterly _terrified_. Her eyes, those pools of honeyed moss that had struck him silent first as kid and now as a teen stared back at him, full of fear and disbelief. He remembered the last words she’d really spoken to him, before he’d been a total ass, when he’d pleaded with her to just let them be friends, that it didn’t matter who’d they been before as children, he still wanted to just know her. The same words that had been haunting him for weeks.

_“I can’t, Mike. You’re still… you don’t deserve to deal with this. Go home, okay? Just forget it. Your leg is better so… go home.”_

She’d looked so pained, and he thought maybe she’d just been saying things but now he knew the truth, what she hadn’t him wanted to know. What she had been dodging and pretending she didn’t understand.

 _She’s sick!_ His brain screamed at him, each word breaking his heart. _She doesn’t want you to deal with it. She doesn’t want you to be a part of it._

But despite how much his chest was suddenly aching, he stepped forward anyways, reaching the end of her hospital bed, taking a deep breath and finding strength from some part of him he’d never really known. A smile teased his lips up, eyes softening as offered the flowers, hoping it would be enough to let her know he didn’t care about the sudden truth before him.

“Hi, El,” he croaked, quickly swallowing the last of his emotion and pushing on, trying to remember why he’d come in the first place. To apologize.

She just stared at him, mouth gaping, eyes wide, totally silent. And then tears filled her eyes, a sob hiccuping out of her. Pained. Embarrassed. Hurt.

Mike felt his heart sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of you were guessing things that were right. was this a plot twist? you tell me.
> 
> sorry about the cliffhanger? was it a cliffhanger? fuck im bad at this and i've had some wine and idk. i think i want to hate this story and i feel really bad about it even though i have ideas? it just feels bad to me and i can't pinpoint why. sorry to ramble but i just can't pretend to be positive about this anymore, i've been out of wack.
> 
> sorry


	6. Will we ever get to the other side before there's nothing left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to say thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter and encouraged me. i've been in a down spot for a few months with my writing which is such a foreign feeling because writing has always been my escape and to turn around and just absolutely hate everything that came out of me... it was hard.
> 
> but you inspired me like you always do with your kind words and after hating this story for so long... i don't? it's hard to explain but i've just felt a bit lost lately, like maybe i should stop because there were so many people out there giving so much. i felt like i wasn't needed anymore, i suppose, which was unusual because most of the time i write for myself.
> 
> this story really is for all of you. so thank you. i love you.
> 
> and sorry but you're going to be so emo after this chapter.

Mike was at a loss for words. El’s face was utterly distraught as she cried, so fragile, like a china doll that could shatter at any second. He knew it was his fault—literally just the sight of him had made her burst into tears. Trying to swallow the disappointment and guilt, he set the flowers and book onto the table at the end of the hospital bed and deflated, his shoulders drooping.

 _I shouldn’t have even come_ , he realized gloomily. _I keep making it worse. I’ll just apologize and leave._

“El… shit,” he sighed wearily as she sobbed again, feeling like he wanted to run away but trying to follow through with his plan, “I’m sorry, like, really sorry. I know I was a total dick the other day when I bumped into you at the cafeteria—”

“Y-You—” Her voice hiccupped out of her, between the sobs, but Mike cut himself off, wanting to hear what she was saying. “You w-weren’t s-s-supposed to s- _see_ me,” she gasped, reaching up to wipe at the tears that flooded her eyes, trying to sit up straighter. It took her another breath to be calm enough to speak again, but she almost yelled instead, surprising them both with the strength of her voice. “Why did you come here? _Why_?”

Mike blinked, taken aback by her outburst. “T-To apologize—”

“Why do you _care_?!”

She was glaring at him now, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to keep it all inside. It was intimidating, the low tilt of her chin and the pucker of her brows making her look like she could snap his neck with just a thought. But her question made his own hurt rise up again and he frowned, wondering how she could possibly not know that answer.

“Why do I _care_? About you?” He licked his dry lips, fighting the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

There wasn’t a solid answer really, just a tangle of old memories and new, the fluttery feeling she put in his chest, the way her laugh sounded better than the Star Wars theme, the way her intelligence complimented his own. Nothing he could explain with words.

“Isn’t that the fucking question,” he mumbled, before shaking his head and looking down at the things he’d brought to her to try and apologize.

That was always the question. Why did he care so much about anything? About making perfect D&D campaigns to play with his friends and offering to let them stay over when they were having a rough time at home. Why he worked so hard on his homework even though he could be out all the time, playing video games and having a social life. Why he always put Old Mrs. Gillespie’s newspaper on her porch on the way to school so she didn’t have to hobble down the steps. Why he slowed for squirrels on his bike and even helped tutor Stacey sometimes in secret even though she scoffed at him in public.

He didn’t know why he cared. He just _did._ He was a loser who let himself be pushed around but didn’t say anything. Because he just cared so _fucking_ much.

“I wish I knew, El,” he said as he clenched his hands into fists, feeling stupid, “but I can’t _remember_. I just know that I did and I still do and I’m sorry that I’m so annoying and gross and a total dumbass and not someone who you would actually _want_ to care about you.”

It came out more bitterly than he expected but it was the truth. Why else would she want him to leave her alone? He was a loser, a wimp, a wallflower who was only noticed when someone in his classes needed a partner and didn’t want to do the work. It’s not like he didn’t know it, he’d grown up being one of the ugly nerds, pushed around by jocks for fun, labeled “Frogface”, part of the freakshow. He knew who he was and where he belonged and he felt stupid for thinking that even for a second that it could be anywhere near _her_.

“ _What_?” Her voice cracked in disbelief and he looked up, puzzled at her tone. He sucked in a breath at her expression of perplexment that suddenly matched his. “Is that what you think, Mike? That you—that I’m too _good_ for you?”

“Well…” he shifted his weight back and forth nervously. “Yeah?”

She laughed, dry and cold at the same time, almost more of a bark than a noise of merriment. And then she shook her head, reaching up to wipe the last of the tears from her face. “I’m a fucking zombie in a hospital bed who bitched you out for being nice and disappeared as a kid and you _still_ think I’m the better one between the two of us? That you’re annoying or whatever?”

Mike frowned. “Um, well—”

“Mike,” she said, tone grim, eyes level as she let the bombshell drop, let the truth spill from her lips with a sad sigh, “I have a brain tumor in my frontal lobe.”

The words felt like a punch to his chest but he tried not to stagger, instead nodding, like he was taking the information in. She wasn’t just sick… she was—

“I’m dying, Mike.”

Her voice was tired, not harsh. She didn’t even sound sad… just resigned, maybe even hopeless. There was no light in her eyes as they burned into him.

“Chemo didn’t work. My dad made me come here because Dr. Brenner specializes in frontal lobe research but if he can’t operate and get it out, I’ll be dead by next summer. I start a treatment next week to try and shrink it in preparation but considering my luck, it probably won’t work. Do you _get_ it?” Her thin wrists fell away from body, landing in her lap listlessly as she stared at him. “I’m going to die and leave you behind again. I didn’t…” She sniffed, quickly wiping her nose. “I didn’t tell you to go away because I thought you were annoying or because I’m too good for you. It’s because you’re too good for _me_. You don’t deserve to deal with this shit. You’re nice and kind and like—one of the few things about my childhood that I actually _liked_.”

A tired smile graced her lips for a moment as she lost herself in thought, clearly remembering what he couldn’t. Then she shook herself out of it.

“So, I’m sorry I was so cold or whatever… but I didn’t want you to see this,” she sighed, her hands squeezing into fists, eyes closing as she shook her head as if in denial of his presence in front of her. “You should have stayed home, Mike. You should have just stayed away.”

“Hey.”

She wouldn’t look at him so he stepped around the end of the bed, inching closer until he could tug on the blanket and get her attention. “El, look at me. Please,” he pleaded.

Her eyes reluctantly opened, fresh tears glimmering in them. The truth of what lived in her head, stealing her life away, made his heart feel bruised. His whole chest, really. Her words echoed in his head, over and over.

 _I’m dying_.

Some part of him didn’t accept it, and that was the part he clung to, to keep him from losing his mind. Right now he needed her to know that the cancer wasn’t the thing he cared about. He needed her to know he cared about _her_.

“You could have told me,” he said honestly. “I… I mean, I won’t pretend like it’s not a lot and honestly I don’t really know if I’ve processed it but I still… I still want to be here. Um, I came to say sorry for being an asshole but I was kind of mad because—” He glanced away, “I guess I was hurt because I wanted to be your friend again and you didn’t explain why… you just said no. And now I know why but I still want to be your friend. I, um, I still like you. Even if you are—” It took effort to say the word and she noticed, watching him with her watery doe eyes. He shrugged and let out a breath. “Even if you are dying.”

It was quiet, the only sounds coming from the hallway, the distant beeping of heart monitors and wheezes of pain. His heart was pounding in his chest and he tried to take slow, deep breaths, not wanting to panic. He definitely was a little bit, but he didn’t want to scare her away again and he was being honest. Every word he’d said had been true.

Okay, so maybe his ideas of her coming to Hawkins High that fall and hanging out with his friends wouldn’t work out, but he still wanted to talk to her. Share books and laugh like they had before, as kids, sharing toys. And a month ago, when he had his cast and she had her wig.

Another realization. It had been a wig.

He glanced up at her, letting her appearance sink in again, what the ashen skin and sunken cheeks meant. It was now obvious that her hair was short because she’d had it buzzed off for chemotherapy but it hadn’t worked and now it was growing back in, a fuzzy cap that crowned her head. It suited her, he realized, somehow making her look tough but beautiful, like a warrior queen who starves with her people but leads them to victory. She still had fight there, in the defiant tilt of her chin and the crease of her brow, even if her eyes were tired and empty.

It gave him hope.

“Look, El, I know I messed up… I was annoying and weird and then totally rude. I get it if you don’t want to be my friend because of that. But I _really_ like you—and I guess I liked you when we were little too. I mean, I don’t remember much but I remember wanting to help you. And I still do, I want—”

“That’s just it, Mike,” she sighed tiredly again. “You can’t help. Even if you want to. I’m going to die and you can’t do anything to keep that from happening. I’ll just be gone again. I’ll be _dead_.”

“ _So_?!” He exploded, feeling desperate to get her to understand. “I _know_ I can’t keep you from dying! But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know you anyways. I want to talk about the Silmarillion and X-Men and Anne of Green Gables. With _you_. Even if it’s just for a year.” She opened her mouth to protest but he didn’t let her. “You don’t get to tell people not to care about you, okay? If you don’t want me around because you don’t like me then that’s fine but don’t tell me I’m not allowed to care just because you’re dying.”

Her face was blank, eyes staring at him, and he felt sweat prickling the back of his neck despite the chilly room. He suddenly realized how forceful he was being, flushing but blustering on, trying to prove his point.

“E-Everyone dies! _I_ almost died, I got hit by a fucking _car_ ! It doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean that I didn’t deserve everyone who cared about me before then. I would have just _died._ And it would have sucked. But that’s just life. That’s just how it is. It’s not fair but it doesn’t mean we don’t get to _care._ ”

He was still flushed from the intensity of his emotions and realized how wide her eyes had become, watery and red. Fuck, he was just making it worse. He needed to shut up and go.

“S-Sorry.” He turned to go, giving up, not wanting to keep making a fool of himself. “I’ll lea—“

A small, cold hand caught his elbow and he froze, moving as she tugged him back weakly to face her. She was gnawing her lip, seeming surprised as he was at her own reaction. After a few pounding heartbeats, she still hadn’t let go and he tried to understand why.

_Does she not want me to leave?_

“Are… are those flowers for me?” She was staring at the bouquet on the table at the end of her bed but her eyes flitted up to his, full of questioning disbelief.

He quickly reached for the bouquet and the book, letting her hand drop from his arm and then situating himself on the bed a little ways from her, showing her his meager offerings. She was still focused on the flowers and reached, taking them from him delicately, as if they would dissolve in her hands. Bringing them to her nose she sniffed, eyes closing, and after a moment she exhaled, her whole body relaxing.

“No one’s ever given me flowers,” she said quietly after a moment.

Mike felt himself flushing again, his heart daring to speed up as she held the soft pink blossoms to her chest. It reminded him of the times they’d sat on the fountain while she wore pink, face relaxed as they read together. He held the book out too, so she could see the title, and he watched her eyes widen as she gently set the flowers down in her lap, hands taking the paperback.

“ _Anne of Avonlea_ ,” she read out loud.

“Yeah, uh, the first one was really good. I thought maybe you’d want to read the sequel—“

“I read all of them. At the library, when I was little. My aunt would take me because public libraries are free and we’d stay all day until they closed.” She sighed heavily. “She was the one who taught me how to read because Mama was busy working.”

Mike winced. Shit. Of course she’d already read the second book, she had read the entire Silmarillion in like two and a half weeks. He opened his mouth to apologize and take it back but she tugged it all the way from his hand, opening it up to the first page and then pressing it to her nose, breathing in deeply. He’d bought a used copy from the bookstore in town, an older edition—that still had the delicious old book smell.

“It smells so good,” she sighed happily. “I always wanted the full set.”

“Y-Yeah,” Mike perked up, “now your first one won’t be lonely.”

It was a dumb thing to say, he thought, but she looked up from the book and a soft half-smile graced her lips, her eyes warm. She looked so _beautiful_ in that moment he almost couldn’t breathe. Her hand moved, from the gifts in her lap, and reached for his that was sitting on the bed between them. It was small and cold as it found his, squeezing gratefully.

_Oh my god._

He tried to keep his hand completely still, afraid she would pull it away if he even twitched. He really didn’t want her to pull away.

“Thanks, Mike.” She didn’t move her hand, and instead squeezed his again. “I love it.” Guilt darkened her eyes and she moved to pull away. “I’m sorry I ran away I—“

“It’s okay, El,” he said quickly, sudden courage causing him to recapture her hand and squeeze it back. “Seriously. It… it doesn’t matter anymore, okay? We can start over again if you want.”

She shook her head quickly. “No. No, I—“ A pause and Mike felt captivated by her eyes again, just how large and bright and sincere they were. “No, Mike. I don’t want to forget you. Or pretend to.”

Warmth flooded through his entire body, lighting up his chest and making everything fuzzy. It took him a second to realize they were still holding hands and he leaned forward towards her, drawn in by the heat, his eyes searching her face for revulsion or disgust and finding nothing but more of that delicious warmth that lit him up like a firecracker. He wanted to sit there and soak it up forever, wanted to just breathe the same air and feel whatever it was that surrounded them in the chilly hospital room.

“Who the hell is this?”

The voice that interrupted the perfect moment was deep and gruff and Mike almost jumped off the bed in surprise, whipping around to see who exactly had ruined what was probably going to be the best day of his entire life.

(Or worst. He hadn’t decided yet.)

A man stood, leaning against the door frame, a single rugged brow cocked in question. He was tall and solidly built, with a grizzly beard and moustache tucked under a brimmed hat. His shirt and slacks were matching shades of tan and a shiny gold pin on his pocket read “Hopper”, complimenting the police badge on his shoulder. Mike’s eyes landed on the pistol attached to the man’s hip and the imposing look on his face and he swallowed as nerves spiked his stomach with fear.

“H-Hi,” he squawked, then cleared his throat hastily, feeling like an idiot. “I-I—”

“Dad,” El interrupted, slyly pulling her hand away and sitting further up, back against the pillows. She held up the gifts. “This is Mike. He brought me flowers.”

The questioning look turned into a glower. “Did he now?”

“U-Um, h-hi, sir—” Mike was suddenly sweating. “Nice to meet you.”

There was a pause as the older man crossed his arms, suspicion written across his intimidating features. Mike decided he’d had a good life. At least he’d held El’s hand before he died. _Definitely_ the best day of life.

“No, Dad, he’s from before. When I lived here, with Mama and Aunt Becky. We went to kindergarten together,” El said quietly as she stared at her father. “He’s the one who lent me that book a few weeks ago. He’s my friend.”

Mike thought his heart was going to soar right out the window and into the sky.

“That book you made me mail after you cried over it for like two weeks?” Jim Hopper’s stare intensified. “And then you moped around afterwards like I’d burned your library card? That was because of _this_ kid?” It came out as growl.

Mike wondered if his should have made a will to split up his belongings between his friends after his untimely demise.

“ _Dad_ ,” El’s face was pink, like her roses, and she was giving him a look that could have sliced his head off. The older man sighed and held up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry. Pretend I said nothing,” he ducked his head and scooted towards the bed, holding out his hand for a handshake. “I’m Jim Hopper. _Chief_ Jim Hopper.”

Mike offered his hand and tried not to grimace at the tight grip, wondering if he should try and look timid to keep himself from getting killed by this massive, terrifying man. To be fair that tactic hadn’t kept Troy from pummeling him for the past twelve years but this man seemed less of an asshole and more of just a bear. A papa bear he didn’t want to poke.

He couldn’t help but gulp again but after a few more seconds the Chief let go and eased back, studying the teen boy with discerning eyes.

“So you knew him _back then_?” He said carefully as he glanced back to his daughter.

“Just for a little bit. Mama made me go to kindergarten every day when we came back to Hawkins. Mike and Will were my friends. He used to share his lunch with me,” she answered, her voice was hollow at first but then grew warmer as she blinked at her father. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s a good memory.”

Hopper seemed to relax a bit at that, reaching for his pocket to pull out a pack of Camels and a lighter, his addiction trying to calm him down with a smoke. El rolled her eyes at the reaction.

“You’re still not allowed to smoke in here.” She coughed exaggeratedly, pointing towards the door. “Go and poison yourself outside!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled before shooting Mike a warning look, then letting his eyes shift back to his child. “Be back in a minute, kid. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

El snorted, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. “That’s not a whole lot.”

Her father chuckled as he left the room, but paused to shoot another look at Mike, eyes narrowed in clear warning. The teen gulped and quickly dodged the older man’s stare, unsure if he should get up and leave too. But then they were alone and the warmth returned and he only shifted a bit on the bed, not wanting to move but trying to make sure she was comfortable.

There were several questions burdening his mind, a whirling chaos of excitement and happiness, confusion and uncertainty. He wanted to make sure she had been sure when she called him _friend_. But he was also curious about what she meant by “before”. Her dad found her when she was eleven—he remembered that, but she’d never talked about it.

“So… I’m your friend?”

“I guess you always were. You and Will. Even though…” She bit her lip and then sighed. “I thought it would better if you weren’t.”

Mike blinked, a bit hurt. “Why?”

“Well… when we were little, you always tried to help me and at first… I mean, when you first crashed your wheelchair I thought maybe you’d be different than you were back then. I called you Wheelie because… I _wanted_ you to be different. Less kind, maybe. I didn’t want you to have to deal with _this_ ,” she gestured at herself. “Not when you deserved better. A better friend. Who wasn’t… dying.”

“Oh.” He felt at a loss for words, her explanation making sense.

“And honestly, Mike, I’m not… that little girl you kind of remember… And not just because of the tumor...” El sighed, her arms pulling in as she held herself. Her sentences trailed out of her slowly, like they hurt to speak, but Mike waited patiently, letting her say everything she needed. “After I left… a lot happened. If my dad hadn’t found out about me, I probably wouldn’t be here. I’m not… Jane, who you shared your lunch with and gave your jackets to and held hands with.”

“We held hands?” he blurted, then realized he was focusing on the wrong thing. He couldn’t really help it though. _El and I held hands when we were kids_. Just the thought made him warm again, but he tried to get back on track. “I mean… I don’t remember a lot. I’m sorry.” A pause as he frowned a bit. “I mean, I’m sorry about all of it. Whatever happened to you… what’s happening now. I know I can’t actually change any of it but if I can cheer you up by crashing a wheelchair every now and then, I’ll go get Dustin to help me steal one right now.”

His face was serious and she stared at him for a second before his face cracked and she giggled, that laugh he’d missed the past month and a half, bubbling out of her like wind chimes and rushing water over rounded pebbles.

“I’m serious! As your only friend it’s now my duty to—”

“Wait, woah, you think you’re my _only_ friend?” She snorted. “I have other friends.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, just one. But she counts.”

“Maybe I could bring Will sometime if you want,” Mike offered. “Then you could have like, three whole friends.” He thought for a second and then grimaced. “I’m not sure about Dustin and Lucas though, I’m pretty sure they’d say something stupid since they don’t know how to act around girls.”

“And you do?” She smirked, eyes teasing.

“I mean, I convinced you to be my friend again, right?” He grinned at her, eyebrows raised pointedly. “You have to admit, that was pretty impressive considering the last time you saw me you literally ran away.”

“Says the Human Awkward Silence who crashed a wheelchair in front of me the first time we met—” She corrected herself. “Second time we met.”

“Ouch. That’s cruel, El,” he whined. “I thought you just said we were friends.”

She grinned at him, for the first time since their first few encounters, her face so different from the devastated terror that had cloaked it when he had first walked into her room. The glow came back, filling his chest and mind until all he could see was just how _beautiful_ she was.

And not just her face—though he was sure he could drown in her eyes forever and be happy—but how she just _was_. So strong despite the cruelty life had thrown her way. She was intelligent and funny, witty and adorable and _kind_. Despite pushing him away he had known that. She had been trying to protect him.

From the fact that she was dying.

Reality crashed in rather abruptly and he couldn’t keep his own grin from faltering. The truth was laid before him, of the hospital gown and IV taped to her hand, of what lived in her skull, leeching the life from her very bones. The beauty of the life that sat on the bed in front of him and how easily it could be snuffed out fell onto his shoulders all at once, his lungs squeezing so tightly it hurt to breathe.

She noticed, of course. A flash of insecurity filled her eyes and she suddenly sat back, arms wrapping around herself again. There was silence as he grappled with what he’d been trying to ignore. What he’d put aside while he made her feel better. He’d meant what he said about wanting to care about her, but the innate sadness at the mere idea of her actually dying made his heart turn into a black hole of fear.

“Th-The tumor…” he managed to get out.

“I was fourteen when it first… showed up,” she said softly. “I did chemo for a year and it went into remission. And then a year later… it started growing again.” Pain filled her eyes. “My dad… he’d already lost someone to cancer. We tried the chemo again but it didn’t work this time and every surgeon we talked to wouldn’t touch it because it’s right where my memories and personality are. If they tried to take it out and made a wrong cut—” She snapped her fingers, the soft noise startling in the intense silence, eyes burning into him. “I could lose everything.”

“So you came… here?” He managed, mouth dry.

“Dr. Brenner has been studying the frontal lobes and surgery since before we were born, how it affects memories and stuff. He’s operated before, and it worked. If I could just have him take it out right now I would but…” A sigh. “My dad, he wants to try the treatments first to shrink it. So if I lose anything, it won’t be too much but… there are some things I wouldn’t mind forgetting. From the past.”

Mike couldn’t help but frown, brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you—”

“You’re still here?” Hopper’s voice cut through the tension. “Aren’t visiting hours over?”

The two teens swiveled to glare at the older man and he wavered a bit, realizing he’d maybe interrupted something serious. He coughed surreptitiously and wandered over to the chair, plopping down and shrugging. “I’m just saying. You’re supposed to be resting up, kid. Saving your energy.”

“It’s fine,” El exhaled quickly, like she was relieved to change the subject. “You’re right, um, I’m kind of tired.”

Mike got the hint, quickly scrabbling off the bed and wincing as he angled his leg wrong and received a sharp stab of pain. He quickly recovered and looked around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, relaxing as he saw the flowers and book still tucked safely into her lap. At least that had happened, and it had gone over better than expected.

She was his friend again.

His heart felt torn between elated and devastated, happy knowing he was allowed into her life again but full of sorrow knowing that it might only be temporary. He quickly waved goodbye to the Chief and then turned to El as he stood in the door.

“Um, I can come back if you want. I could bring the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Since you read the Silmarillion it’ll be super easy and they’re really good, Bilbo is in it and Gloin—one of the dwarves from the Hobbit—his son is in it and there’s all these cool references,” he rambled a bit and then managed to cut himself off as her dad gave him a look.

El smiled shyly but nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Maybe on Friday?” His tone was hopeful.

“Friday is good.”

“Cool,” he grinned.

“Cool,” she repeated, her smile shining at him like a starry night sky full of stars.

“Cool?” Hopper snorted. “Is that what you kids are saying nowadays? When did ‘groovy’ go out of style?”

El huffed at her dad’s dumb joke and Mike decided he would leave them alone, quickly waving again. And he needed to be alone too, before he called Lucas to come and pick him up.

“Bye, El.”

She waved back, eyes softening as she turned to look at him. “Bye, Mike.”

He made his way down the hallway, around the corner, past the giftshop and the courtyard where they’d reacquainted back in May. There was a bathroom further down, the kind that was a single room with a toilet and sink, and luckily it was unoccupied as he slid inside, locking the door. As he rested his head against the chilly metal, he tried to breathe, tried to contain the emotions that were suddenly too much to bear.

A ragged sob shook his breath and then the tears came in a flood, a hurricane of sorrow that he couldn’t control. Anger at the unfairness of the world, bitterness at the hand that had been dealt, and unquantifiable _sadness_ as he let the full realization of what he’d just discovered flood through him.

_“I’m dying, Mike.”_

There was nothing that could change that, his logical mind and endless wit not enough to make a difference this time. She could be dead in a year and there was nothing he could do to save her. It wasn’t fair and he sobbed out the sorrow and anger that filled his soul, alone in the quiet bathroom only a few hallways from where she lay, wasting away.

It wasn’t fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you sad? because i'm sad. i hate making mike cry, but how could he not? he has too big of a heart. those empath things. 
> 
> i don't have the exact ending planned out but i have the trajectory of the plot so i'm hoping i can catch it now that it's starting to roll. there's quite a bit of foreshadowing in this chapter and i'm wondering who's going to catch it. 
> 
> another familiar face might be popping up next chapter but i haven't started writing that one yet so we'll have to see.
> 
> thank you all again. i don't deserve you but i love you. <3


	7. I don't care if Monday's black, Tuesday Wednesday heart attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> struggled with this chapter because i'm so tIRED of writing the damn hospital haha. i had no idea how to end it so it just kind of sat around for awhile. sorry, friends. i've also just been struggling with myself as a writer and feeling like i'm letting people down. it's been tough. i'm managing like i always do.
> 
> also if you actually know shit about tumors and cancer proper terminology, feel free to correct me. i try to research the terms and get it right but i only took on human biology course and that was a solid three years ago so i'm very rusty. i welcome corrections but i'm trying my best to make it realistic.
> 
> side note: mike wheeler is my favorite character ever and i would die for his happiness.
> 
> this chapter feels long to me but i don't think it's really that long, but there's a lot. 
> 
> have at it.

Friday had taken forever to arrive, but Mike was at least glad he’d finally convinced his mother to let him ride his bike again.

Sort of.

It had been less of convincing and more of a marathon of begging. He was tired of making people drive him around all the time. Lucas’s parents had started to run out of sympathy and their habit of of letting their son son borrow the car to be his friend’s personal cab service had been diminishing. And it wasn’t as if Mike’s leg wasn’t back to normal after the physical therapy. There wasn’t a really _good_ reason that he couldn’t get back on the road by himself, and by all means it made more sense for him to be riding his bike then sulking around the house and begging for rides.

But Karen’s mind was still full of fear at the thought of letting her only son back onto a bike after the accident. He had recited the probability of getting hit _again_ —which was low—over and over and begged and pleaded and so after three days of doing dishes and driving Holly to her lessons in the borrowed station wagon and overall proving his responsibility (again), she had given in and let him have his back bike.

So he’d regained his tiny scrap of freedom, feeling refreshed as he pedaled towards Hawkins General, marveling at the lack of pain in his leg and the feel of the wind through his sweaty hair. July was in full swing, the heavy humidity suffocating and drenching him after the first few blocks. He took the shady route behind the houses to try and escape the blistering sun, the trees that lined the neighborhoods offering a tiny reprieve as he panted and pushed his bike over the bumps and hills. The scenery was prettier that way anyways.

Thankfully it wasn’t _too_ far, but he was a sweating mess by the time he arrived, locking his bike outside and making a pitstop in the bathroom to try and wipe the sweat away. He took one look at his yellow striped button up and cringed at the huge sweat stains drenching the armpits and back of his shirt.

 _Fuck._ “Shit,” he said out loud to his reflection in the mirror. _I look so fucking gross. She’s going to want to run away again._

For a second he considered leaving the hospital and coming back after a shower and a begged ride, but it was already past noon and he didn’t want to waste any more of the day doing things that weren’t spending time with El. Maybe he would have to just keep his distance today and next time bring an extra set of clothes. And maybe some cologne.

 _You’ll be lucky if she wants to hang out again after this fucking gross disaster._ He chided himself as he turned on the automatic hand dryer and positioned his left pit under the hot blowing air. It took a solid ten minutes before he was dry enough to not feel totally disgusting, inspecting himself in the mirror again and raking his fingers through his hair.

Useless. It was always a mess.

With a final self-conscious sniff he abandoned the bathroom and made his way down the cold hallways, grateful for the chilly air that cooled him down as he walked, sneakers squeaking on the sterile linoleum. There were the usual sounds of wheezes and beeping machines, the frigid shadow of death creeping around the corners as he scurried towards the room that held the person he wanted to see. His palms were sweaty and his left hand adjusted its grip on the hardcover book, and in his other hand, the bouquet of daisies and violets he’d swiped during his ride over, after noticing the clumps of blooms growing along the edge of the woods. She’d loved the roses so much that he’d paused his journey to collect some of the cheerful wildflowers and placed them in Holly’s borrowed white and pink wicker basket he’d attached to his own bike to hold his book.

Now they felt a bit silly, growing limp in his damp hands and feeling as dreary as the sterile surroundings. He gulped and tried to push the doubt away.

_Girls love flowers. Even ugly ones, right?_

When his eyes found the correct number, he noticed that the door was closed this time and he swallowed nervously for a heartbeat, unsure if he should leave or not.

 _She said Friday was good. And it’s Friday. She’s expecting you,_ he convinced himself before biting his lip and knocking softly.

“Come in,” said a voice that didn’t sound particularly feminine. “But _quietly_.”

Mike did as he was told, carefully creeping in to the room, the lights dimmed other than the bit of sunlight coming through the blinds. It lit up the bouquet of roses sitting on the windowsill in a vase, the soft pink blooms still bright and vibrant as they day he’d brought them, their scent lightly perfuming the air and burning out the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol that usually permeated the building.

El’s father sat in the chair next to the bed, holding what looked like a stack of reports and a cup of coffee. He gestured to the bed and then put his finger to his lips. Mike’s eyes followed his gaze.

El was sleeping, curled beneath the white sterile sheets, two blankets piled on top, her face pinched even in her sleep. She looked impossibly small, her fist tucked beneath her chin, eyes moving beneath closed lids. Mike realized she somehow looked worse than the last time he saw her—only three days ago. The pressure in his chest increased and he couldn’t help but look at the Chief with huge, worried eyes.

The older man sighed, speaking softly. “It’s been rough the past few days. The last scan wasn’t great…” His eyes flicked to the wildflowers in Mike’s hand and he grimaced. “She lost her sense of smell yesterday… just woke up and it was gone. The doc says the tumor is putting pressure on her olfactory nerve.” Another weary sigh as the older man glanced at the bouquet on the windowsill. “She spent three hours yesterday trying to smell those roses. Gave herself a nosebleed.”

Mike looked down at the wildflowers, feeling his heart sinking. “Shit.”

Apparently it _had_ been a bad idea and he wilted like the withering stems in his sweaty palm, unsure what to do. The older man interrupted his thoughts.

“Are you always going to bring her flowers?” Hopper humphed.

Mike couldn’t help but flush, stammering awkwardly, unsure of how to explain his intentions.

“N-No! Um—s-sir, the roses were… an apology,” he managed to get out, gesturing with the handful flowers, flopping them about in his nervous hands. “A-And I just saw these when I was riding here and I thought—” His face was burning. “I just thought s-she’d like them.”

“She probably will.” The older man let out another sigh, something Mike was starting notice was a habit. He gestured to the other chair in the room with his chin. “You can wait if you want. Until she wakes up.” He raised a brow in warning. “She needs the sleep right now, nights are… are rough.”

“Um, sure.”

Mike gladly sat, putting the flowers on the table next to him and then the book. His eyes were glued to the bed and he felt fear bubble up his throat, chalky and sour, tracing the shape of her fragile frame and watching her side rise and fall as she breathed. There was some part of him that was afraid if he looked away, she would stop, her lungs giving in to the exhaustion that wracked her body. He counted each breath, the longer, stuttered inhale and the whooshing exhale that groaned out of her chapped lips.

The clocked ticked the seconds away, each respiration growing more ragged and his heart pounded, fearful they would cease. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty, then forty-five. Occasionally Hopper would shuffle his papers or clear his throat, but it took him fifty-three minutes before he bothered to look up and notice the young man’s terrified stare. He cleared his throat, setting his documents into his lap, empty coffee cup resting on the table, it’s contents long gone.

“She’s not going to stop, kid.”

Mike roused from his daze, mind breaking from the cycle of fear he’d been running in, turning to look at her father, his face a question mark. “Huh?”

“Breathing. It’s not affecting her motor functions… yet,” the police chief let out another sigh. “She’s not doing great but she’s not going to die. Not today, anyways.”

“O-Oh,” Mike stammered, not sure what to say. “That’s… good.”

“She starts a new treatment a week from today. We’re hoping it works.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that. To… shrink it? The, um,” he swallowed, finding the word suddenly more difficult. “The tumor?”

“That’s the goal. Reduce the pressure on her brain, make it small enough to remove with less risks. She’s got a chance yet.” He’d resumed scribbling on his paperwork but paused to look at the teen, eyes narrowing. “Did you not know that?”

Mike licked his lips, mouth dry. “Not really. She just said she was dying. No… details.”

“Hmph. No wonder you look like you’re watching your house burn down.” A amused snort. “She’s dramatic, kid. Don’t let her fool you. We’ve got a chance to make it stop, to make the dying… stop. It’s more than I’ve had before.”

The words left Mike’s mouth without thinking. “Like, your other daughter?”

Hopper visibly bristled and Mike immediately wanted to punch himself in the face, sputtering out an attempt at an explanation for his dumbassery. “Shit, sorry, Joyce told me and—”

The storm receded from the Chief’s face and he crossed his arms, cocking a brow. “Oh, you’re the one who sicced Joyce on me, huh?” For a second Mike wondered if he was just digging himself in deeper but then the older man let half a grin push at his mouth. “I was wondering how she knew I was in town.”

“S-Sorry, I asked if she knew anyone named Hopper because I’d met El already and—”

“Take it easy, kid. I’m not mad. It’s been good to see her again and…” He crossed his arms, a pleased glow lighting his eyes. “She’s been helping me get the cabin ready for Ellie. Hopefully we can get her out of this hospital once the tumor shrinks—”

The conversation was interrupted by a shuffling next to them, El’s limbs fluttering beneath the piles of blankets like a trapped bird as she let out a quiet huff, eyes slowly blinking open.

“Dad?”

“Right here, Ellie,” Hopper said quickly. “You have a guest. He’s been waiting.”

At that El sat up a bit, searching the dim room until her honey-moss gaze landed on Mike, who was sitting stiffly in his chair, still reeling from the Chief’s revelations.

“Mike.” There was a smile in her voice and eyes, though her exhaustion was a mask that barely let the happiness through.

Mike felt his heart leap towards her, deciding that was his new favorite way she’d ever said his name.

She finally managed to sit up, floundering a bit like a fish in a puddle, not quite able to get a grip. “You’ve been waiting?”

“Not too long,” he quickly assured her, getting up and grabbing the _The Fellowship of the Ring_ from where he’d left it on the table next to the dying wildflowers. “I brought the first of the Lord of the Rings, like I said.” He hesitated but then fingered the small bouquet. “And some more flowers that I saw but they’re—”

“Flowers,” she perked up, eyes following his hand. “Can I see?”

He rather reluctantly handed them over, watching as she tried to smell them and wincing in disappointment as her shoulders drooped. She held them out to him again quickly. “They’re pretty. Can you put them with the other ones?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He tucked them into the vase with the roses, the tired stems perking as the entered the cool water. It was rather pretty, the white and purple wildflowers contrasting with the soft pink petals, a mix of domestic and wild. Mike turned back to her, grabbing the book again and quickly offering it to her, wanting to get her focus off of the loss of one of her senses. She took it with unsure fingers, hands trembling slightly.

“I thought… maybe we could read it together, y’know, like we did before.” He frowned, realizing she shouldn’t get out of her bed, and that they wouldn’t be able to sit closely enough to read at the same time. “Or I could read it to you out loud,” he suggested quickly.

“No, it’s okay. Here.” It took her several struggling seconds to scoot over, the generous width of the hospital bed and her small figure creating a big enough gap for him to fit, but snugly.

His face flushed. _She wants you in her bed?_

He felt his mouth go dry and he glanced quickly at her dad, whose eyes were glued to his paperwork, intentionally ignoring the two teens. Mike swallowed nervously, but couldn’t refuse her, bobbing his head agreeably before shuffling forward. He kicked off his sneakers and carefully sat on the edge of the bed, shooting another look at Hopper, who glanced up to meet his gaze and then shrugged, going back to scribbling on his clipboard. Mike let out a breath at the half-assed blessing before scooting in all the way.

His leg pressed against hers and he couldn’t pretend like her freezing skin didn’t alarm him, quickly covering both their waists with the stack of blankets again. It was a bit toasty but her shivering frame sunk against him as she reached over for the book, apparently totally comfortable with the whole situation.

Mike tried not to hold his breath, unsure and uncertain of how to react, afraid he would alienate her if he even twitched. Her small hands guided his larger ones, opening the hardcover to the first page before tucking back under the covers to keep warm. He exhaled in sudden gasp as she rested her face against the side of his arm, too short to fully rest on his shoulder, even when they were both sitting down.

 _What is happening? Is she trying to cuddle me?_ He was suddenly grateful for her missing sense of smell, feeling guilty but relieved that his sweaty stench wouldn’t drive her away. _Fuck, I’m too awkward for this. What do I even do?_ Her breath sighed out of her in a warm rush as she relaxed against him, her thigh pressing against his, shifting slightly to see the typed words. He sat frozen, unsure how to react or act or exist, a mix of anxious uncertainty and bright sunburst of joy filling his chest as he let her fill his senses.

Her voice surprised him when she spoke. “I’m done with the first page, are you?”

He’d been so focused on her he’d totally forgot about reading, quickly turning the page in answer. They sat silent as she read, the quietness suddenly comfortable instead of foreboding, the florally perfume from the flowers filling the air, the soft scribble of the Chief’s pen and the crinkle of flipping pages the only sound. His eyes kept drifting to her, unintentionally, the words so much less important than the way her brow furrowed in thought and the way her chapped, pouty lips mouthed along, barely moving but reading every sentence. It was considerably more captivating then the story he knew by heart anyways, and he ended up waiting for her to exhale heavily, his cue to turn the page.

An hour slipped by, in quiet comfort, the plush softness of the bed and his warmth slowly seeping into her. He watched her eyelids start to flutter and then droop, the exhaustion from fighting the impossible infection in her head weighing on her again. She tried to fight it, startling awake, eyes trying focus back in on the page to continue the story. But it was a lost battle, her lashes flashing open and closed. There was a soft sigh and Mike felt her relax, her cheek pressed firmly against his arm as she slid into unconsciousness, her hand flexing under the sheets, fingers grazing his forearm before wrapping around it as she cuddled into him.

She was _cuddling_ him.

Mike tried to control his breathing, afraid the sound of his pounding heart would startle her awake. He’d thought life couldn’t get any better after she’d held his hand but this?

This had to be some sort of heaven.

&&&

He ended up visiting her again three days later, leaving his book next to her bed and returning (with fresh clothes and deodorant this time) to continue the thrilling fantasy saga. They didn’t just read, but usually they started with a few chapters and sometimes she would nap, head resting on his arm or, one time, his chest. At first he’d been terrified her dad would pull out his gun and wait for the teen to scramble out of the bed and down the hall, but the chief of police always said nothing, sometimes even _leaving_ the room.

He left them. Alone in bed together.

Mike didn’t know how he’d gained such trust but he knew he would never wake her up when she clung to his side, her fragile hands holding onto him as he gladly shared his warmth. Part of him wondered why, why he was allowed, why she wanted him there as she slept. But he never questioned it out loud.

He was just happy that _he_ could be the person she wanted next to _her_.

After her nap she would usually ask him questions, about school and the weather and what was going on outside of her chilly, sterile world. He told her about going to the library with Dustin to gather books from the musty shelving to start planning for their science fair project—three months earlier than usual since it would be their last year. And how Lucas had recently saved up enough and was starting look for a car, making Mike dig through stacks of papers with a highlighter to mark the ads that looked promising. Going to see that weird new movie called _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_ with Will, as per their best friend tradition.

“Yeah, the Hawk has like half price Thursdays, so we try and go see the new releases every couple of weeks,” he explained, sitting at the end of the bed, back resting against the footboard as she stayed snuggled beneath her blankets. “We’re waiting for the last Indiana Jones movie, they’re releasing it next year. It’s been kind of dry this summer but it’s still fun to go and watch it on a big screen.”

“Indiana Jones?” Her brow wrinkled, her skin thin like paper that would tear if she thought too hard, dark blue and purple veins marking her temples.

He inhaled sharply, clutching his chest dramatically. “You’ve never seen Indiana Jones?”

She had shook her head with an amused smile and the next visit he’d brought the first movie on VHS, one of the nurses helping him roll a larger TV with VCR into the room that they kept in the hospital for such a purpose. El made him sit with her in her bed when they watched movies too, and it always made his heart sing when he was allowed so close, sharing space and feeling like he was invincible.

But then she’d started the treatment. And all of it had been snatched right out from under him with no warning.

The first time he hadn’t been allowed in her room had been the day after it had started, the mysterious attempt at a cure he only knew as “the treatment”. He’d knocked on the closed door as usual, holding _The Two Towers_ since they’d finished up _The Fellowship_ the day before _._ Hopper had come out, looking haggard, his eyebags matching his daughter’s as he shook his head.

“Sorry, kid, but no guests today. She needs rest and quiet, to let the, uh, the process work. Or…” A heavy sigh, voice turning to a mutter, “...not work.”

Mike’s disappointment at not being allowed inside was quickly frozen over by fear, icy prickles of dread making him shiver as he stared at the uncertainty in her father’s eyes. His gaze shifted to the crack in the door, knowing she was _just_ there, so close but suddenly behind an icy wall he wasn’t allowed to cross. Swallowing his apprehension, he pressed the book into Hopper’s hands, looking down.

“Maybe read it to her until I can come back?” There was a lump in his throat, catching his words, and then he turned and ran back down the hallway, needing to be alone and just breathe and remember what the Chief had said.

They still had a chance.

&&&

He went back the next day, _and_ the three after, each day told the same thing, that she needed rest and quiet. That she was having migraines and headaches. That light and sound hurt too much, even the sound of his voice. Once Hopper even let it slip that she was being heavily medicated to fight off the pain in her skull that threatened her life more and more every day. The cold shiver didn’t leave him, the knot of ice in his stomach keeping him awake at night and making him space out during game nights, even during a rather crude, impromptu campaign.

His friends began to notice the slump in his demeanor and he tried to keep it in, to fake the smile and laugh at the joke, even though his mind was miles away, trapped in a cold hospital room, alone and in pain.

Some part of him was annoyed at just how much he cared. Why should he? They’d only just become friends again. It was stupid to get so attached so quickly. It wasn’t _logical_.

But then he remembered the feel of her soft breath on his arm, her cheek pressed to him as she slept peacefully. How her hand felt in his. How her eyes crinkled up when she smiled, how her laugh bubbled and tickled him like a feather.

There was no logic there. There was nothing but delicious warmth and pure _emotion_.

Will’s story, about his childhood depression after her abrupt disappearance, it made sense now. If he was feeling such an intense attachment at seventeen, how could he have dealt with it as a kid? Something about El made his entire existence glow. Being around her just felt _right_ —like somehow when he was with her suddenly everything made sense.

Maybe it was weird to care so much, but it was too late now. She had invited him in and he didn’t plan on going anywhere.

So he kept knocking on the door. Kept being turned away. Kept _trying_.

On Sunday, over a week after her treatment, it had been storming. Thick rolls of thunder shook the Wheeler house as rain pounded the windows, making the glass murky and heavy, an underwater world only seen by those on land. His mother had insisted on driving him to the hospital.

“You’ll take your bike if I don’t drive you,” she had sighed, grabbing her keys. “So come on, let’s go.”

This visit was the first time he’d come empty-handed, walking down the now familiar hallway, expecting to see the door shut and the usual “Please Keep Quiet” sign that Hopper had messily scribbled and taped there.

The door was open, warm light spilling out into the storm-darkened hallway.

A familiar chime of laughter echoed out and Mike couldn’t help but speed up, the hope that been burning dimly during her solitude suddenly bursting into flame. His Pumas squeaked on the dreary linoleum as his fingers gripped the door frame, swinging his body around the corner, a totally geeky but genuine grin lighting up his face.

“El! Hey are you feel—” He cut himself off as not one, but _two_ heads swiveled to look, the pretty hazel-browns he was used to accompanied by a set of icy blues. His words stuck in his throat as he stared at the second, unexpected person.

She was pale and slim, about the same size as El but with a solid frame instead of a doll-like figure, a shock of bright red hair spilling down her shoulders to her upper back, tangled wildfire. Freckles dotted her arms up to the sleeves of the hospital gown, but they weren’t the only thing that marred her skin. The lower right side of her face, starting at her cheekbone and moving back to her hairline and ear, looked like a red, melted candle, wet with ointment and angry, disappearing down her neck and under the flower print fabric. Her right arm—though he only glimpsed it—had a similar appearance, warped and welted, almost inhuman looking. Unlike El, it was obvious she was a patient, and Mike felt his mouth go dry at the sight.

“U-Uh,” he stammered, eyes wide.

The redhead snorted at his reaction, turning to look back at the other girl. “ _This_ is the guy?”

El’s face was flushed pink and she pushed at her apparent friend’s undamaged hand. “Yeah, okay, he’s kind of dumb sometimes. I told you, when I met him here, he crashed his wheelchair.” She had a good natured smirk on her lips. “And sometimes he stares and can be a total asshole. _But_ —” Her eyes glowed with amusement. “He’s _really_ good at apologizing.”

“Hmm.” A single cocked auburn eyebrow assessed him. “He’s kinda dorky looking. And he’s still staring.”

“Mike!” El’s voice broke his stare and he quickly focused back in on her. “This is Max. She’s my… other friend.” She was still smirking at him, playful and happy as she turned back to the other girl. “Max, this is Mike. My _first_ friend.”

“Um, yeah! Hi!” He entered the room, trying to shake off the idiocy that had frozen him in place. “Nice to meet you Max, I’m Mike, um—” he frowned, shaking his head, clearly still an idiot. “And El already said that…”

Max snickered, eyes gleaming before turning to El. “I thought you said he was smart?”

“No!” El was flushing again, clearly embarrassed by Max’s need to be as frank as possible. “I mean, he is, but not… always. He’s nice, okay? Just give him a shot.”

Max shrugged at El’s defensive tone but turned and held out her hand, clearly ready to make amends. It was her bad hand, the red, melted skin reaching up to her wrist and palm. Mike reached out but hesitated, and the redhead narrowed her eyes.

“What, you think it’s contagious or something? It’s a burn, you nerd, not a disease,” she scowled.

Mike’s eyebrows jumped up his face and then furrowed as he shook his head. “No, I, um, I just don’t want—I mean like, doesn’t it hurt to shake hands? With your… burn?”

Max’s anger dissolved and her icy gaze went down to her hand again. She shrugged. “I guess so, but I don’t usually mind.” Her other hand was offered instead, along with a crooked grin. “But since you care so much.”

It was a bit of an awkward shake but it worked and Mike let himself smile easily at the teen girl before his eyes drifted back to El. Max was definitely interesting but the fact that he was standing in El’s room after almost a week and a half of exile had his heart soaring.

She looked… well, not quite _good_ but definitely better. Her cheek and collarbones didn’t jut out quite as sharply and despite the dark shadows under her eyes, the honeyed-moss hazels shone brightly, no trace of the pain that had filled them the last several weeks. And, though he knew it had been growing since he’d first seen her shaved head, her hair was little longer, the brunette fuzz turning into actual strands that stuck out at her temples and around her ears.

 _It’s cute_ , he couldn’t help but think as his eyes drank her in. _Really, really cute._

“Wheelie, you’re still staring,” she said quietly, that playful smirk twitching her mouth. “It’s really kind of rude.”

He quickly averted his eyes, face going red, barely stammering out a, “S-Sorry?”

But when he glanced back up both of the girls were trying—and failing—to hold in more laughter and he let his embarrassment turn to amusement as he realized they were just messing with him. He covered his eyes with his hands, hanging his head in shame, playing along.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking rude. I promise to never look at you again. Ever.” It was a lame joke, maybe, but worth shot. “From now on I’ll blindfold myself when you’re around. You can just yell at me and tell me where to go. It’ll be like Marco Polo or something.”

There were girlish giggles that made him grin like the total dork he was, silently congratulating himself on being funny for once. What he couldn’t see was Max elbowing El sharply, eyebrows raised, a knowing smile on her lips. He heard a shuffle and then two small hands were moving his fingers away from his eyes, blinking out the blurriness as he looked down.

El was staring up at him, their rather abrupt height difference suddenly obvious as she pushed his hands down, head tilted thoughtfully. She was closer than he had expected, her socked feet a few inches from his Pumas, her breath warm against his striped polo, making sudden goosebumps pop up across his neck and down his arms. Her hands were still holding his, keeping them firmly away from his face, but it was the way she was looking at him that made him freeze like an idiot on a bike in front of oncoming traffic.

“Mike,” her voice was matter-of-fact, the warmth pouring out of her as she looked up at him, “there is no way I’m going to let you blindfold yourself when you visit. Then I wouldn’t get to see your face.” Her lips twitched up just barely and Mike felt his heart almost stop. “And that’s like one of my favorite things, so…” She dropped his hands, crossing her arms firmly. “No blindfolds allowed.You’re just going to have to learn how to stop staring.”

“You like my face?” It was almost a squeak.

She snorted. “That’s literally what I just said.”

Mike gulped. _Is she… flirting with me?_ There was no way, he was totally imagining it. Just like he had that time at the fountain. They’d only just become friends again, and even though he knew she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life and that she made his heart go crazy and that not getting to see her the past ten days, seven hours, and twelve minutes had sucked—there was no way she wanted to _flirt_ with him.

“I-I-I—uhhh,” he responded intelligently. “U-Uh, um… okay.”

He was captivated by her, her closeness and her almost imperceptible smile and her sudden brash confidence. The warmth was back, the one she always made light up his chest, and his feet traced forward, eyes fixed on her. She bit her lip, but didn’t break the eye contact, instead tilting her head, a dare maybe, or just an odd movement, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. But Mike didn’t care, suddenly fixated on the perfect pink petal of her lip, wanting to be closer, wanting to just _be_ there, with her—

Max cleared her throat from her seat on the bed, the noise like a metal bucket down an empty well, clanging loud enough to wake the dead.

Mike jumped back in a flash, feet clumsy and heart racing, startled at the realization that they were not alone. The redhead was looking at him with the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen in his life—which was impressive considering he was friends with Lucas, lord of smarmy—her eyes taking in everything.

“Dude, were you going to kiss her?” she blurted.

Mike _felt_ himself turn red, heat flooding his face as he sputtered and tried to take a step back, almost tripping over his own feet and trying to think of something witty or smart or even just not awkward, not stupid—

“Of course not!” It was a pitiful yelp. “No, I would never!”

The awkwardness multiplied, Max looking gleeful as she turned her gaze to her friend. El wasn’t looking at him anymore, he realized, her back turned to him as she scolded the redhead.

“Jesus, Max, really?!”

Max didn’t lose her grin. “You said he was awkward! I wanted to try it out!”

“Ugh, get out of my room.” It was a groan. “I’m cancelling our friendship due to excessive _rudeness_. You’re banished until further notice.”

“Mmhm, okay, I’ll—” Max got up, reaching for a cane that Mike hadn’t noticed hanging off the edge of the bed, her hand expertly gripping it as she stood. “—I’ll leave you two alone.”

She managed to flounce, despite her bad leg, out the door while the other two teens stood in humiliated silence. After a moment El climbed back onto the bed with a huff, avoiding his eyes before huffing again.

“She’s the worst sometimes, sorry. We just wanted to tease you but she… kind of takes it too far, sorry.” Her apologies punctuated her sentences like odd exclamation points. “Just, pretend it never happened, sorry.” It was impossible not to notice the droop in her shoulders.

Some part of her almost seemed disappointed and he didn’t have time to think before he was blurting out, “I mean, I didn’t mean I would _never_ kiss you, I just meant like, I wouldn’t kiss you right then.” He realized what he was saying and grimaced, suddenly even more embarrassed, staring down at the floor. “I-I mean, like, I’m not thinking I’m going to kiss you, I just don’t—I mean, you’re not gross or anything, I don’t want you to think that. You’re totally, uh, kissable, I just—”

“Mike. Woah.” He dared to look up and her eyes shone with amusement again. “It’s fine. I won’t expect you to kiss me anytime soon, okay?” She reached out and patted the blanket. “Now get over here and tell me what I missed while I was trying not to let my immune system kill me and I’ll tell you when my dad thinks I might get to move out of here.”

The last bit of news—and her totally normal attitude—perked him up. She might get to leave the hospital soon? Would that mean they could maybe hang out outside? And when she said she wasn’t expecting him to kiss her anytime soon… did that mean she was expecting him to kiss her sometime later?

_You’re overthinking it, numbnuts, she’s just trying to make you feel better since you’re a total idiot. “You’re totally kissable”?! What the fuck was that? Fucking shit. Literally never speak again._

But despite his mental anguish, he did as she asked and scooted onto the bed, tucking his spindly legs under himself like an odd spider, ready to hear her news. “Moving out?”

“Yes!” Excitement glowed out of her face like a lantern. “He’s been fixing up this old cabin his grandpa left him, adding an addition so there’s another room for him and setting up better plumbing and stuff. If this treatment keeps working, he thinks in October I can get the fuck out of here.” Her eyes danced. “I could like, maybe even go to school or something.”

“Really?!”

“Well… maybe. I haven’t really… brought that one up yet. But at the very least I could maybe go out and do normal things. Like… go to the mall or see a movie or something.” She was almost wiggling with excitement. “I could almost be _normal_.” There was no disguising the pure longing in her voice.

“So… your treatment is working then? That’s why you feel better?” Mike knew she didn’t like to talk about the medical side of all of it but he was too curious. “Is it some kind of weird miracle juice?”

She smirked at him and rolled her eyes but answered, “No, nothing that cool. Dr. Brenner calls it immunotherapy treatment. Instead of blasting it out of me with chemo, it works with my immune system to try and destroy the tumor. And at first he wasn’t sure if it would work but I guess it is.”

“Will it… get rid of the whole—” His eyes flicked up to her temple. “Uh… thing?”

“It might. If we’re lucky, I won’t need surgery at all.” Her excitement thrummed in the air. “And I can just… live now. Until we find out if it’s gone or not.”

He let himself smile, the tight knot of fear that had been suffocating him for weeks unfurling at the realization that, at least for right now, she was going to be _okay_. Relief hit him like bucket of water being dumped over his head, cold and sudden and shocking.

“Holy shit, El! Holy… fuck! That’s so _awesome_!” His excitement rebounded off of hers and doubled, sudden possibilities filling his mind. “Maybe you could come to the arcade with me and Dustin and Will and Lucas when you’re out, or we could see a movie or go to the mall—they have a Scoops Ahoy there and the best flavor of ice cream _ever_ and—” He stared at her, picturing all the fun they could have. “I mean, if you can go to school, we’ll totally help you keep and stuff, I tutor a couple of people anyways so we could do homework together with the guys—Dustin is the best at math, better than me to be honest—and—”

“Mike!” She was laughing. “Take a breath, okay? All of that sounds _amazing_.”

Their shining eyes met and that same warmth from earlier burst out as she leaned in closer looking grateful and happy and beautiful. Mike took a deep breath, unable to keep from glancing at her lips.

 _Kissable_ , he thought rather dreamily.

“All of that sounds rather a bit much, Miss Hopper.”

The voice that heralded the arrival of another visitor was stern and chilly and Mike felt something stab through him, some inkling of a thought of apprehension, goosebumps rising on his skin. He turned, just as a tall, imposing figure appeared in the doorway, followed by a small crowd of young men. His hair was snow white, matching the lab coat that covered his pristine suit. He looked like more of a scientist than a doctor, but the badge on his lapel read “Dr. Martin Brenner” and it took Mike a moment to realize that this was El’s doctor.

But he couldn’t help blinking at the man, frantically fast, feeling _something_ , an emotion or thought or idea he couldn’t pin down and a foggy sense of recognition. The man’s eyes landed on him, cold grey-blue, like arctic glacier water, dunking him into a mental bucket of ice, every inch of him freezing.

“Michael,” Brenner said, looking rather satisfied. “Are you the one filling my patient’s head with frivolous ideas?”

“Do I…” Mike’s could feel his heart racing but he had no idea why, ignoring the question. “Do I know you?”

“Perhaps.” The doctor turned his attention back to El and Mike was suddenly able to breathe again with the chilly stare gone. “Jane, I know you’re feeling better, but it’s a bit soon to be thinking about leaving, isn’t it? We need to keep you healthy and safe.”

“My dad said I could leave…” El replied, suddenly weary. She seemed to shrink, her glow fading as she stared at the doctor.

The man let out a sigh, a hint of irritation crossing his face before the mask of well intention covered it again. He took a step closer and Mike fought the sudden urge to get between the man and El, puzzling over why he was feeling so weird.

“He and I have different priorities. Mine is to get you well, so for now I think it’s better to stay here and be safe. How about that?”

El looked away, shrugging noncommittally as one of the men who had followed Brenner in walked closer to her, holding a clipboard. They was a small crowd in the room, and Mike guessed the others were students or residents or whatever the learning-to-be-doctors were called, and he stood to give El some space, ending up being pushed to the wall. A prickle of annoyance tickled his neck as he was literally pushed aside but what was really bothering him was the way they stared at El, whispering to each other and making notes on their clipboards. She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head on her arms and turning away, as if to try and block it all out. One of the young men turned to Dr. Brenner excitedly.

“So she’s the one with the meningioma in her prefrontal cortex?”

“Correct.” Brenner sounded almost pleased, moving towards El and placing a hand on her temple. She didn’t move. “And so far it’s been aggressive, growing so large it compressed the olfactory nerve and caused loss of smell. But,” he paused, proud, “we just started an immunotherapy course and it seems to be reducing the size of the mass. If this continues to be the case, there may be no need for operation. However,” another pause, this one for dramatic effect, “if the meningioma continues to be aggressive, I am prepared to operate and remove the mass.”

One of the students raised their hand and Brenner nodded at him to speak. “But aren’t there big risks due to the placement?”

“Correct.” He moved away from El, to lightbox on the wall where several x-ray films were hanging. Clicking the light on, he allowed the group to get closer and see. Mike, from his smushed place against the opposite wall, strained to see, catching a glimpse of a white blob that contrasted against the darkness of the film. Brenner pointed towards it. “The meningioma has formed between the two hemispheres of the frontal lobe, meaning any operation would have high risks of damaging either or both sides. This could result in memory loss, loss of one or all senses, change in personality or even death.” He turned back to El, who hadn’t moved from her curled up position, head turned away, tucked into herself. “But I am more than prepared to be the one who saves this young girl’s life. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

His tone indicated otherwise, eyes sliding across her gown-covered form, almost eagerly. Mike narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling like he needed to get these pushy assholes away from her, quickly elbowing his way through the crowded room back to her side. She didn’t move as he approached and he turned back to face Dr. Brenner.

Their eyes met again and Mike couldn’t keep himself from shivering. Why did this man freak him out so much? He’d never seen him before in his life. But something about him twisted Mike’s gut and skittered fear across his brain as if it was a piece of ice being kicked across a frozen lake.

Something was _off_.

He said nothing, knowing he’d be drowned out by the small crowd anyways, instead just setting his hand gently on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently. She startled and turned, relaxing when she saw it was just him, her eyes softening a bit. But the hazel-brown depths were full of embarrassment and pain, distress riddling her face, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip. He felt helpless to help her.

“Michael.”

He looked up at the sound of his name to see Brenner watching him with a discerning gaze.

“ _What_?” He retorted. How the hell did this guy know his name?

“Visiting hours are over for today. Jane has things to do this afternoon, starting with an exam, and I’m sure she’ll be more comfortable if you let us work in peace.” The snowy brows dipped slightly, the crease between them a clear challenge.

Mike felt his hand clench, fingers tugging at El’s hospital gown as he tensed. Visiting hours weren’t over until nightfall, he wasn’t stupid. Irritation and anger flared and he lifted his lip, opening his mouth to tell the pompous doctor to fuck off, but a small hand covered his and he looked back down instead.

El was staring at him sadly, but her head shook almost imperceptibly, an obvious warning. They said nothing, instead just staring into each others’ eyes, something that had become a habit. Somehow it worked easier than words, and Mike read the gratitude in the peridot and amber orbs that watched him, followed by that look she’d given him earlier, the one that shot warmth through his entire chest.

 _I’m sorry,_ he told her silently as she squeezed his hand with her own, _that I can’t do more._

 _You do enough_ , she blinked back.

“Okay, um, I’ll be back tomorrow,” he acquiesced. “After lunch.”

“Sounds perfect,” she said softly, a soft smile gracing her lips that coaxed a similar smile onto his face.

There were at least eighteen pairs of eyes on them but they didn’t notice. Instead their smiles said what they couldn’t, the uncertainty that usually made them awkward suddenly vanishing with their privacy. Somehow the crowded room only made it more clear just how much they understood each other, with and without words.

With a final squeeze of their hands, he let his arm drop and took a step back, eyes never leaving hers as he backed away. He almost ran into a resident and was forced to turn away, waving as he did so.

“Bye, El.”

She lifted her hand and waved back, the smallest but most sincere smile gracing her lips and lighting her eyes. “Bye, Mike.”

He looked over his shoulder as he weaved through the crowd, reaching the door where Brenner stood, watching him. Mike’s shoulder bumped the older man’s and for a second he was filled with the sudden urge to punch the doctor square in the face.

_You’ve never punched anyone in your life, idiot. You literally don't know how. That's a bad idea._

Instead he just glared, feeling suspicion and dread weave their way into his mind. Ignoring Brenner he turned back to El and waved one last time before pushing through the doorway and heading down the hall. His emotions were tangled and stretched, the joy and then apprehension and anger and excitement all turbulently whirling in his mind as his feet moved him farther away from where he wanted to be.

It was only the thought of her smile and the look in her eyes that kept him from turning and running back to her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know i've still been taking forty years to update but the really good news is that i've built pretty much the entirely of the plot which is... amazing, because plot building makes want to fucking bash my head into my wall. i've still got a few things to set up over the next few chapters but considering that i completely turned around from what this story was originally going to be, i'm pretty pleased with what it will be.
> 
> phew.
> 
> not sure when i'll be updating next but hopefully less than a month lol. there's so much to do but i'm trying to drop hints without giving things away. so far there's only person who knows and rhi, if you're reading this, thanks for putting up with me spoiling things and for being my guinea pig. i adore you.
> 
> any new theories? i live for your comments, even if i'm too intimidated by my inbox to really reply. 
> 
> see you sooner than later  
> -g


	8. You make me feel like I am home again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this took over three months but it's back! i was kind of undecided on how fast i wanted mike and el's relationship to progress and while i have the main plot figured out, i sometimes forget the real story is in the details.
> 
> i've been kind of dealing with a lot. it's been cold and i've been surviving but it just really sucks the life out of me and i've been struggling. i also found out earlier this month that i would be losing my job because the business was closing down and so i've been in this transitional period of going from one job to another and it's still not quite figured out. sorry, instagram friends, that i haven't been on much, but that's why. i just had to take a step back.
> 
> this has been on the backburner a bit while i started a few new ideas and got them out. i have so much i want to do that just hasn't happened. but i'm glad this is at least is still going. thanks for riding it out with me, i appreciate you all so much!

The tiny pixel figure on screen dissipated and then “poofed!’ as the video game console played the usual disappointed jingle, an 8-bit reminder that not only had you killed your man, but you had totally lost the game and were probably out of quarters and were an actual, real loser.

“Fucking shit!” Mike groaned, slapping the brightly-colored console.

“Ha! I told you, you’re never going to beat my high score! No one is,” Lucas preened as Will rolled his eyes and gave Mike a reassuring nudge. “Donkey Kong is my game.”

Dustin reappeared clutching four cans of Tab and a bag of cheetos, glancing at the game before shooting Mike a sympathetic look. The four boys grabbed their sodas and headed outside, sitting on the ledge that lined the Palace. It wasn’t disgustingly humid anymore, but it was hot enough that they stuck to the shade. August had been kind enough to not act like it was still July, but it might have been because September was rapidly approaching.

“Can you believe school starts in two weeks?” Dustin said through a mouthful of puffed cheese snacks, smacking Lucas’s hand away before eating another handful.

Will nodded. “It’s weird to think this the last summer where we’ll be going back to Hawkins High. I don’t know if I’m sad or like… relieved.”

“Definitely not _sad_ ,” Dustin replied as he licked cheeto dust off of his fingers. “Can’t wait to get out of here. Hawkins is like so fucking small I can’t even wrap my mind around it—hey!” He missed smacking Lucas away and the other boy grinned as he managed to grab a few cheese puffs. Dustin glared for a second. “Can’t wait to get away from all the _losers_.”

“Says the asshat who just lost to me in Street Fighter _again._ ”

“That’s because you always distract me! Which is cheating. You're a cheater. Better to be a loser than a cheater.”

“It’s not my fault you glance up any time the door opens! And maybe someday Stacy Addams actually will walk through the door and come up to you and throw herself at you and—“

Dustin tensed up as his tender spot was thoroughly prodded. “Shut the fuck up! This is why I never tell you anything!” He turned beseechingly to Mike. “Please hurry up and spill about your hospital girlfriend already so he leaves me alone.”

It was Mike’s turn to turn red and he gave Dustin an accusatory stare before quickly taking another long drink of his pop, avoiding the unavoidable for another second. He’d mentioned El to them before. Several times, actually—he wasn’t trying to hide her or anything. But he hadn’t really told them about how she cuddled him while they read and watched movies or that sometimes he’d trip on purpose during one of their walks around the hospital corridors just to make her laugh or that she made his heart soar right out of his chest when she looked at him and smiled, hazel-browns glowing just for him.

There was no way they could know _that_. So he just mentioned he would go over and visit her sometimes. That she was really cool and fun to be around.

But he had told Dustin that she was doing better after he had to reschedule another meeting about their science fair project. Apparently that had been a mistake.

“Yeah, Mike,” Lucas chimed in. “Spill it. Do we ever get to actually meet her or do I need to just keep assuming she’s a figment of your imagination and the reason you end up at the hospital so much is so they can inject you with more loony juice? Because Kerley County is kind of a far drive to visit if you end up in the nuthouse.”

Mike didn’t bother hiding his exasperation, giving in a bit and shrugging, still avoiding eye contact. “Will’s visited her,” he said sulkily. “Why do I need to be there for you to go?”

“Will went with his _mom—_ and he already knows her! What, am I supposed to just walk in to this random chick’s room and be all, ‘Hey, I’m Mike’s friend and you don’t know me but can you stop taking up all his free time because we’ve only had one campaign this summer and it kind of sucked.’” Lucas crossed his arms, a mix of annoyance and exasperation twitching his brows. “I don’t know if that would go over well.”

The taller boy bristled, his embarrassment turning to anger in flash. “It’s not my fault you spend all your time running around and looking at cars you’ll never buy! Even if I made a campaign, you’d be too far up your own ass to even show up!”

“Well it’s not _my_ fault you fucked up your leg and spend all your time at a hospital talking to some girl who’s probably there because she’s crazy!” Lucas stood up to his full height, shoulders tense. “Figures you could only get a girl who’s fucked in the head to even talk to you!”

Mike saw red, jumping forward and giving Lucas a solid shove. The darker teen staggered a bit and then moved to push back, eyes filling with fire. It was only Dustin throwing himself between them that kept them from flying into a fist-filled rage, Will’s hand on Mike’s shoulder reminding him to not let Lucas get under his skin again.

He loved his friend but he could be a total dickhead sometimes.

“Woah, you guys, you need to chill out,” Dustin said, shoving the rest of his cheetos at Lucas as a distraction while he wedged himself between the two. “Lucas, you can’t say that kind of shit, man, okay? If you get called an asshole it’s because you’re acting like one.” Lucas started to get upset again but the curly-haired teen turned back to their Paladin. “And Mike, seriously, you disappear to hang out with this random girl all the time and never tell us and want us to just be okay with that? We miss hanging out with you. Lucas just doesn’t know how say it and has to be a dick about it instead.”

It was rational, albeit crude, but Mike sighed and pushed back, shooting Lucas one more glare before leaning back against the wall, arms crossed.

“Okay, sure. Sorry that I found someone I actually like to hang out with who isn’t you guys,” he grumbled. “If you met her maybe you’d get it but—”

“Is that an invitation? Because I’d be down,” Dustin interrupted. “Let's go meet the mystery girl.”

Mike choked. “Woah, woah, wait—”

But Lucas was already looking excited, eating the last of the cheetos and nodding. “Hell yeah, let’s see the weirdo and find out why Mike keeps ditching us!”

“Lucas,” Will piped up. “You seriously need to stop.”

“Ugh, why?”

“Because El is actually really nice. You’re just jealous because Mike doesn’t hang out with us all the time,” he stated plainly. “Don’t hate her just because you’re mad. That’s not fair.”

Lucas took a deep breath, as though trying to hold in some sort of big outburst. He failed. “ _Why_ do I have to give a shit about some _random_ girl?!”

At that Dustin and Will both groaned and rolled their eyes, realizing the only way to try and make him get past his stubborn assumption was to show him. Mike was still standing there, blinking, mouth gaping open as though he was trying to think of an excuse to keep them from leaving _right then_ and going to Hawkins General.

“Guys, I don’t know, I’m not supposed to head over until later and she won’t be expecting more people and—”

“She won’t mind, Mike. It’ll be fine,” Will said as he patted his taller friend’s arm. “She told me she wanted to meet Dustin and Lucas when my mom and I visited. It’ll be a nice surprise.”

“But—She—”

“We’re going to meet your mystery girl, Mike! And with any luck she’ll see the light of day and realize I’m definitely the better choice between the two of us,” Dustin grinned, letting out one of his weird purrs.

Mike turned red, shaking his head. “She’s not my _anything_ and if you do something like that she’ll throw you out so don’t even _try_.”

They started walking towards the parking lot, Lucas looking displeased but being pulled along as Dustin slung his arm around their Ranger’s shoulder. The Bard grinned over his shoulder at Mike.

“I think I detect a note of worry there, buddy.”

“You do _not_.”

“There it is again.”

“Oh my god, shut _up_ , Dustin!”

&&

Whatever Mike had been expecting to find when they made it to room 174, it hadn’t been this. When he’d led his friends down the familiar hallway, he thought he’d heard music. Like a distant radio in a faraway room… or more likely someone had left MTV on. It was definitely that Whitney Houston song, the one Holly had blasted every time it came on the radio all last summer.

_“I need a man who’ll take a chance, on a love that burns hot enough to last!”_

It got louder the further they went down the hall and was joined by the sound of laughter—girlish giggles of mirth. A certain familiar laugh pricked his ears and even though the door was closed, he realized the music was definitely coming from El’s room. The guys noticed, Dustin perking up while Lucas only looked more annoyed to even be there. Mike glanced at Will, who shrugged, and then took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It flew open, a smiling, laughing El on the other side, glancing over her shoulder at Max, who was in the middle of the room. She didn’t even bother to look who she was talking to, snickering out, “Sorry, I know you said to turn it down but—”

Her eyes met his, two sparkling stars, and her thin eyebrows climbed her forehead.

“Mike!” He felt his heart stop at the happiness she spun into his name, feeling himself start to smile despite himself. She glanced around his shoulder behind him. “And Will! And… strangers!”

Behind her, Max let out a whoop. “Hell yeah, now it’s actually party!”

Before he could really process what was happening, El grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the room, reaching behind him for Will and pulling them both into the middle of the room. The music was still blasting, Whitney’s vocals killing the chorus, and with another laugh, El started to dance between them, swaying her hips and bouncing. Max whipped around them to the door, fearlessly grabbing Dustin and Lucas and forcing them into the fray, her red hair flying as began to dance, hobbling a bit but not needing her crutch anymore apparently.

All four boys froze in shock, staring at the two girls who were getting _down_ , sashaying and kicking and doing cute little stompy moves as they danced to the beat.

_“Ohh, I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heat with somebody! Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody!”_

“C’mon, losers, dance!” Max shouted.

Will figured it out first, bopping his head along to the beat and then bouncing a bit, finding the rhythm pretty easily. El smiled at him and whooped, and he grinned back, doing a little fancy step with his feet that had her laughing and then trying to do the same. Dustin dived in next, completely unable to find any sort of consistent move or beat but swinging his curls around like a rockstar and staggering, doing some sort of version of Thriller before just giving up and bouncing along, face the epitome of joy.

At first Lucas had been stiff and annoyed, but then Max shoved him, giving him a stink face, and he’d let out a defeated sigh and started to sway his shoulders.

And then he started _dancing_.

Mike’s jaw dropped. None of them had ever bothered going to the dances or formals, not needing any ridicule added to their already low social standing. Being nerds was one thing, being loser nerds who couldn’t get dates and danced like idiots held little appeal. But apparently Lucas had been holding out… and now he wasn’t.

He could move, spinning on his heels and then moving his hips and shoulders to the beat, rolling his body as he stepped precisely. It was fucking incredible, Mike would admit that, and when he did a moonwalk right across the linoleum floor, both Max and El let out shrieks of excitement. Lucas was grinning, looking _very_ pleased, and finished the song with a single shimmy as the DJ on the radio proclaimed the name of the song and started talking about the weather.

Mike hadn’t moved once.

“Holy shit, Lucas, holy shit!” Dustin was slapping the darker boy on the shoulder. “When the fuck did you learn to do that?!”

“While you were busy jerking off, I was actually doing something useful,” Lucas shot back, and Max let out a cackle before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. He looked over his shoulder at her, smirking. “You should try it.”

“Oh fuck you!” It was paired with a middle finger and a toothy grin.

Max asked Lucas to show her how to do the moonwalk and Dustin and Will joined the class, but El hung back, going up to Mike and gently setting her hand on his arm. She was panting a bit from all the dancing, cheeks pink, and she looked better than she had in weeks. The miracle treatment was good to her.

“Mike, you didn’t dance at all!” she accused, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, uh…” He felt his palms start to sweat. “That’s because I can’t. Not even a little bit.”

“Oh come on, everyone can dance.”

“Not me. I’m the walking awkward silence remember? I don’t know how to dance, and honestly it’s probably for the better,” he tried to convince her. “There’s a very high probability that I’ll injure myself… or someone else.”

Right then another song came on, with a catchy beat and an easy melody and El ignored his fear, grabbing both of his hands and pulling him back into the middle of the room, starting to bob up and down. The feel her hands, warm for once, holding his clammy ones, made his heart race, and the way she was looking up at him, smiling encouragingly, made him swallow his protests. And it _was_ an awfully catchy song.

“ _I’ve got my mind set on you! I’ve got my mind set on you. I’ve got my mind set on you!”_

It was ridiculously repetitive but that made it easier to catch the beat, and he gave in, unable to resist her happy smile and dancing eyes. He tried to match her movements and she laughed, delighted, moving her shoulders back and forth, still holding his hands to help guide him. Despite his initial hesitation, somehow she made it easy, and he allowed himself to follow what she did, bouncing awkwardly. He was completely sure he looked like an idiot, but somehow he didn’t mind.

“See, you’re doing great!” she told him, lifting their hands up and starting to jive.

_“And this time I know it’s for real, the feelings that I feel. I know if I put my mind to it, I know that I really can do it!”_

“You make it easy,” he shot back, unable to keep from laughing as he fumbled his feet _very_ badly, trying to match her energetic pace but failing. “Sort of!”

“ _I’ve got my mind set on you, I’ve got mind set on you!”_

It was hard to focus on anything that wasn’t her laughter and smiling face as she danced. He stumbled and stomped and flailed, but she didn’t mind his lack of grace, their fingers entangled as she tried to help. They didn’t notice their friends around them, joining in, or the footsteps coming down the hall. Their eyes were locked, hearts beating happily, lost in an ocean of warm sunshine where there was nothing but the beat of the song and the smile shared between them.

And then the door flew open and Chief Hopper shuffled in, holding his usual mug of coffee and looking exasperated at the sudden inundation of teenagers in his daughter’s room.

“Okay!” The older man managed to make his way to the radio and turned George Harrison’s chorus down. “The noise level needs to go _way_ down before the matron chews up my ass again.”

All six teens had reluctantly stopped their partying at his appearance, the boys visibly nervous. El was still holding Mike’s hand, looking unbothered by her father and his gruffness. He raised an eyebrow at her and let his eyes drift around at the others.

“Do I get an introduction or do I need to just assume these kids are also going to swing by randomly uninvited?” he prompted.

Max snorted, crossing her arms. “Well, I’m Max Mayfield, your favorite burn ward victim—”

“Not _you_ ,” Hopper huffed, clearly used to her sass. “The ones I’ve never seen before in my life.”

El turned to look at Dustin and Lucas who were behind her and then faced her dad again with a shrug. “Well, I don’t know them either.”

“Jesus Christ. I did not sign up for this,” he sighed.

“You’re right, the broken condom signed you up for it,” El shot back, an unholy smirk lighting up her face.

All six teens burst into laughter and the color drained right out of Hopper’s face. He went and sat down, exasperated or exhausted or maybe both, shaking his head and then taking a long drink of his coffee. “I don’t know _why_ you even know that…” he muttered to himself, defeated at the hands of the daughter.

Mike felt a tug of sympathy, figuring the Chief wasn’t anywhere near prepared to deal with all of them. It’s not like any their parents did much better. He managed to catch Dustin’s eye and jerked his chin forward towards the older man. Dustin, for once, took the hint.

He marched up to Jim Hopper, unintimidated, and held out his hand. “Dustin Henderson, treasurer of the Hawkins High School AV Club, Captain of the debate team, high score on Dig Dug—”

Hopper shook his hand but quickly let go. “Okay, okay, got it, kid. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“And I’m Lucas. Sinclair.” Lucas rolled his eyes at Dustin as he came forward too, firmly gripping the Chief’s hand. “Sorry if we were loud, sir.”

“Ooh, he called me _sir_ , you finally brought one home with respect,” Hopper drawled, eyes on his daughter who just shrugged in response. “Alright, well, at least now I have names. Probably all I’ll get. Other than a headache. Maybe go for a walk or something? Let me have some peace… while I figure _this_ out.”

He had a stack of papers, as usual, and El shrugged but then turned to Mike. She hadn’t once let go of his hand and instead used it to lead him towards the door, unbothered, as if she knew the rest would follow them.

“Let’s go outside, a walk sounds nice, actually.”

“You’re allowed to go outside?”

“It’s a new development,” she said, tossing a grin at him as she dragged him down the hall toward the nearest exit as the others followed.

Somehow he didn’t feel embarrassed, not even a little bit. Sure, he was holding hands with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen and she had just made him dance for the first time ever and she was so funny and clever and—

And even though his friends were behind him, snickering and gathering emotional ammunition he was sure he’d be pulverized with later, he didn’t care. Because he was with El and she was so happy and she was happy to be there with _him_ and how could he ever feel embarrassed about that?

It was starting to dawn on him that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. And part of him—the logical part—was trying to tell him that probably wasn’t good. But the bigger part of him didn’t care. His heart was in it, he could tell, and he didn’t feel afraid. Not of trying to help her and make her happy.

That just felt… right. It made _sense._ More than anything else in his life.

“Wheelie, hey! Mike!”

Her voice made him realize he’d zoned out and he came back, staring down at her face. She had her nose scrunched up in confusion, eyebrow cocked, and she looked so cute he felt that weird urge to kiss her again.

Was it weird?

“What are you thinking?” She nudged him with her elbow and part of him wished she was still holding his hand. It gave him strength when his sweaty palm was cupped in her smaller one. It was like he was invincible when she was there next to him, hands entwined, her face resting gently on his arm. Like he could have the courage to tell her he liked her. Like… _like_ liked her. Like wanted to hold her hand everyday and maybe even kiss her.

He gulped and clenched his hands into fists, quickly looking away. There was no way he could tell her that.

“Um, I was just thinking about school coming up,” he shrugged. “Like two weeks or whatever. And it’s my last year and all that…”

He couldn’t have been more unconvincing if he tried.

“And, uh, I dunno, you mentioned maybe you would be starting this fall so I was just wondering—“ He ducked his head, embarrassed at last, deciding that had been truthful enough. She as always in the back of his mind, wanting to be part of what he was doing.

Her face fell and she bit her lip, shaking her head. “No… my dad has been trying to get me out for like three weeks but Brenner hasn’t wanted me to leave yet and when I do I don’t think he’ll approve me being thrown to the teenage wolves in high school…” She crossed arms, rubbing at he shoulders as if she was suddenly cold despite the warm August sun. “I guess he’s right, I need to keep resting and not stress my body out but… I just _feel_ so good. And I haven’t felt good in forever and I’ve spent half my life either in hospitals or on the street and I just wanted to be normal for maybe _one_ year… go to school and stuff but…”

_The streets…?_

She let out a long sigh that ended with a shivery breath and Mike realized she was about to cry, a heartbeat away from losing it. The sound of his friends and her friend mingling behind them and laughing filled his ears and he glanced over his shoulder. They were all laughing at something Dustin was doing, not paying attention to the two up ahead of them. The whole group had been wandering around the outside of the hospital, which had nice smooth sidewalks and bushes and trees. A few nurses were pushing patients in wheelchairs around and there were quiet benches around the corners. Mike spotted one down a side path and gently took El’s hand, leading her towards it. They sat and she wiped at her eyes quickly.

“Thanks. I don’t like people seeing me when I cry,” she whispered.

“You’ve cried in front of me like three times,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light, hoping that teasing her would make her feel better.

She rolled her eyes and wiped at her nose again. “Yeah but you’re just _you_. I’ve drooled on you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” he answered honestly, wishing he had some tissues he could offer her.

“Depends on if you like drool and tears, I guess.”

“I like _you_ ,” he blurted. And then immediately turned bright red. “Um, like hanging out with you and a stuff. Reading and watching movies and dancing—which is weird because I suck at dancing but it’s fun with you I guess and—” His mind seized the only thing he could think of that was somehow related. “Maybe we should go to homecoming because my mom is already on my ass about it because I’ve never gone and it’s not for like another month and half but—”

“Homecoming?”

He finally stopped babbling long enough to look at her. Her hazel-browns were wide and open, the tears gone, and she looked like she’d just breathed in oxygen for the first time. Mike blinked, not sure what she needed to hear, leg bouncing as a sudden bolt of anxiety struck him in the chest.

“Yeah, um, there’s like a dance in the school gym? With like punch and cookies. It’s kind of lame, honestly, I don’t know why I thought—”

“You want me to go with you?” She was still gaping and he felt himself turn red. “To a dance?”

“Um…” There was no way he wasn’t about to sweat right through shirt. “...yes?”

They sat there for just a breath, Mike’s nervous heart pounding as El stared up at him.

And then she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and curling into him, halfway climbing into his lap. It took him a second to realize she was hugging him, face pressed against his neck, the whole of her existence tucked right into his chest. There was no hesitation once he understood, his arms surrounding her and holding her firmly, a breath shuddering out of him as a feeling of sudden _rightness_ filled him.

It was stupid, but it felt as if his whole purpose in life was to be there, holding her. Like for the first time he was sure where he was supposed to be—no insecurity or questions or worry. If there was a single place in the entire world where he belonged, it was right there on that bench outside of Hawkins General on a hot August afternoon.

“Mike?” Her voice buzzed against the front of his polo, muffled into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, El?”

“I really _really_ want to go to Homecoming with you.”

He was struck by lightning. No, he was _floating_. No, maybe he was actually flying.

His brain reminded him he needed to reply and he nodded, her soft hair tickling his cheek, babbling, “Okay. Cool. I guess I’ll tell my mom I’m going afterall. She’s going to lose her shit, just a warning, and ask a million dumb questions and be annoying _and_ she takes like a million pictures for _everything_. Hope you don’t mind.”

El still hadn’t moved, but he felt her take a deep breath, her tiny hands gripping into him harder for a second, nose nuzzling against him. When she exhaled she pulled back, and Mike reluctantly let her go, instantly missing the feeling of her being close to him. When she looked up at him, with those doe eyes that made him just _melt_ , her entire face was glowing and she was smiling, excited and damn near _ethereal_.

“It sounds perfect,” she breathed, so honest and earnest and beautiful. And close. Inches away.

God _damn_ it, he just wanted to _kiss_ her.

The sound of footsteps and a cacophony of familiar voices sounded nearby, just at the end of the path that lead to their hiding spot, and Mike pulled back. Reality crashed in, pulling him back down from heaven with her and reminding him he’d left his three best friends with Max, a total stranger to them and to him a minor acquaintance at most. He’d been so lost in El that he’d sort of forgot the whole point was for his friends to get to know her. The group spotted the pair on the bench and made their way over to them, Max in the middle of the boys, cajoling and laughing liked she’d known them for years.

“Ellie, you abandoned me with these idiots,” she accused, ignoring the offended looks of the three boys. “I mean, not Will of course, but the other two.”

“Hey!” Lucas and Dustin protested at the same time.

El grinned, face shining like the entire night sky, completely unbothered by her friend’s accusation. “Sorry, Max, but guess what?”

“What?”

“I’m going to Homecoming!” She jumped up, grabbing Max’s hands and bouncing. “Like, to an actual high school in a gym and there’s going to be a _dance_. Mike asked me!”

The other girl immediately looked excited. “Oh my god, really?! Shit, I want to go!”

Dustin didn’t miss a beat, snaking around Max’s shoulder with a grin. “You can go with me!”

“Or me!” Lucas butted in, coming around her other shoulder.

Mike was starting to realize that his friends were being weird _and_ embarrassing. Sure, yeah, maybe asking his dream girl to homecoming was a little nerve-wracking, but at least he _knew_ El. Max was pretty much a stranger and he wasn’t sure if El would care for his friends trying to hit on _her_ friend. Both of them. At the same time.

He frowned, opening his mouth to tell them to fuck off or something but before he could, Max whirled around to face the two boys, crossing her arms. Mike could only watch in amazement as they both shrunk, confidence waning, seeming to cower before her. He was suddenly quite glad he’d asked El—not just because she was pretty much the best thing in his life, but because while he’d been nervous to ask her, at least he hadn’t been terrified of her.

Not that he could be.

Max let out a long “Hmmm” and then uncrossed her arms, as though carefully considering her options. Dustin and Lucas exchanged look, like maybe they were regretting their decision to compete with each other yet again.

“How about both of you bring by your X-Men collections tomorrow and maybe I’ll be swayed one way or the other… we can have another party,” she suggested, grinning broadly. “And the second I’m allowed to leave this shitcastle, we can head to the arcade. I want to see your high scores myself.”

“The arcade, Max, really?” El snorted.

“Get your dad to get you some quarters, Ellie, I’ll show you the ropes. Maybe Mike can too,” Max shot back, still grinning, pleased with her plan.

Suddenly El stiffened, like she was remembering something. “Oh shit, my dad! He said he had news for me but I forgot because the guys came—” She looked over her shoulder at him and he immediately stood up. “Do you guys mind? I want to know what it is.”

“No, yeah, of course. We can head back in,” he assured her, not bothering to check in with his friends.

She lead the way back to the room and he followed like a moth to flame, trailing behind her as she chattered excitedly with Max about high schools and dances and dresses. It was hard not to watch her when she was absolutely glowing, her excited fingers tucking one of the short, brunette curls that had started to grow out behind her ear.

An elbow as jabbed into his gut and he managed to look away from her long enough to notice all three of his friends staring at him with expectant faces. He immediately flushed, avoiding their eyes and stuffing his hands into his pockets as they walked.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” he muttered.

“Really, Mike? Homecoming?” Lucas grumbled. “I thought you said school dances were lame and that we would never go!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t say you guys had to come too,” he shot back. “You volunteered. If you don’t want to go, just tell Max.”

“Yeah, Lucas, go ahead and tell Max you don’t want to go,” Dustin piped in. “I don’t mind.”

“No way! I dance better than you, she’ll want to go with me anyways!”

The two began to bicker—though much more quietly than usual—and Mike pushed past them to walk next to Will, who had been quiet almost the whole time. At his best friend’s approach he looked over, not really upset but maybe curious.

“You don’t have to go, Will,” Mike said quickly. “I honestly didn’t mean to ask her—It just kind of slipped out. She was sad about not being able to like… be normal and go to school and I just thought—”

“You did something nice for her. Like you always do. It’s okay, Mike, if Lucas and Dustin go with Max, I don’t mind coming too.” He grinned, snickering. “Our moms are going to lose their shit. Probably get us matching bowties or something stupid.”

Mike lit up at the Cleric’s approval, smiling back. “Oh god, you’re right. It’s going to be such a shitshow.”

“But at least we’re all going together.”

They’d made it back to El’s room and Mike paused as she and Max went in, the others also hesitating outside of the door. It felt weird to intrude, especially since El hadn’t specified what kind of news her dad was going to give her. Dustin gestured towards the door as if to ask to go in, but Mike shook his head and then shrugged and they stood on the opposite side of the hallway exchanging looks, only able to hear the low sound of voices talking coming from inside.

And then there was a scream.

Mike jumped, whirling around in confusion and then worry, heart suddenly racing. Despite his attempt to allow El her privacy, he couldn’t help it, pushing away from where he’d been resting against the wall and crossing the hallway in two steps, pulse pounding.

He walked in on El attacking her father with a hug, squealing happily as he tried to keep from spilling his coffee. The older man was grinning, as happy as his daughter—though not quite as enthusiastic. Max was holding her bad arm to her chest, but she was smiling too, and Mike’s panic faded a bit as he realized it must have been a scream of joy and not fear.

“Um…?”

El had just let go of her dad and turned at the sound Mike’s voice. She was in tears, but absolutely beaming and he couldn’t help but smile back despite having no fucking clue what was going on.

“Is everything okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak yet and he frowned, concerned.

“Are you sure?”

“Promise,” she gasped, wiping at her eyes. It took her a second to compose herself, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him. “I get to leave Mike. I get to get out of here!”

“Wha—What?”

Hopper’s voice rumbled from his chair where he held up the stack of paperwork he’d been working on when they’d left earlier. “Just signed the final dotted line. We’re heading home tomorrow.” He was still grinning.

The wires finally connected as Mike remembered the older man telling him about fixing up an old cabin, somewhere on the edge of town, for her to live in while she did outpatient treatment. It meant that she would finally be free from all the sickness and gloom that kept her from feeling free, that she would be out of that weird doctor’s grasp, and that she would be able to actually _do_ things. Like go to the movies or the arcade or the library.

Or Homecoming.

“El, holy shit, that’s awesome!” he crowed, genuinely happy for her.

She’d been so miserable being stuck in the hospital. Even though they’d made the best of it, sitting in the courtyard when she’d felt better to soak up the warm sun, reading books and watching movies and talking. It had still been a prison, even if it had been necessary.

“I know!” she beamed. “And he also said I can go to Homecoming with you!”

Mike couldn’t help but tense and glance over at Hopper, who nodded approvingly at him, before relaxing and focusing back on El. She’d been through so much and it finally felt like things were starting to look up. Not only did she feel better, she _looked_ better, like she wasn’t just on the cusp of her last breath, and she was going to be able to have a house and go to the grocery store and eat breakfast in bed and watch TV and just… be normal.

She could be a normal girl and he could be normal boy and maybe… they could be normal together?

“It’ll be great, El. And now you can come with us to the Palace or Scoops Ahoy or the comic book store—” He paused, knowing he was getting ahead of himself but feeling too excited to care. “There’s so much we can do now! Um, I mean, if you want to…”

He barely had time to let the usual red flush creep up his neck and across his cheeks before she was taking two steps, closing the small space between them. He held up his arms, halfway expecting her to jump on him like she had earlier, with a hug, but instead she let her hands rest on his chest as she stood up on tiptoe, stretching, face closing on his, her breath warm against his reddening skin.

And she kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Mike,” she whispered as she lowered back down, her hands sliding down the front of shirt as she moved away. He wanted to grab on to them and hold them, hold _her_ , but instead he looked down at her, suddenly breathless. “Thanks for taking care of me all these weeks… while I’ve been stuck here. You made it so much easier and—and I’m really glad you chased me down and made me be your friend again.”

He could still feel the warmth on his cheek where her lips had made contact, gentle and soft.

“M-Me too,” he managed.

And suddenly all the stress and the worry didn’t matter anymore. Those days where he’d been so angry at her for cutting him off before he’d even had a chance to understand who she was and what she’d been to him. The pain and sadness at the discovery of why she had pushed him away, what lived in her head, stealing her life. And then after that, he’d worried himself sick thinking about her being stuck in the hospital, curled up in her bed, wasting away. There had been weeks and months of anxiety, so much uncertainty of how much time she had left, wondering if she was okay. And then more weeks, of quiet recovery, where she slept in his presence—not well, but not on the cusp of leaving him again. There had been so much _fear_ … that he’d willingly welcomed in, because it meant being near her again.

But it didn’t matter now. Because she was happy that they were friends. All that he had done, all those things, big _and_ small, when he had worried for her, it had been worth it in the end. Because she was glad he’d done it. She was happy. She wanted to go to Homecoming with him and hang out with him and be around him. She wanted to kiss him on the cheek and hold his hand and cuddle against him.

She _wanted_ him to be there. She wanted him.

The realization struck him all at once, looking down at her—so honest and pretty and happy—of what she meant to him. It was an oddly familiar feeling, and he had flash of her, as a tiny girl, looking up at him with her big hazel-brown eyes, smiling, just as happy as she was now. And he knew what it meant, what the five-year old version of him had known, even if it had been so brief and taken away so suddenly.

It filled his heart and made him almost tremble, it was so strong. Maybe outrageous or ridiculous, considering how little time they’d had together so far. But he couldn’t deny any longer what he knew with every fiber of his being.

He loved her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst? i don't know her.
> 
> it always has to be happy for the hurt to actually hurt, right? who knows. i sure don't. 
> 
> i have a feeling this story is going to be very long in order for everything to work and at the moment i'm estimating at least twenty chapters which makes me absolutely sWEAT. it might be a slow process of months between updates, but i'm not giving up on this one, just like you guys haven't given up on me.
> 
> shout out to rosh for volunteering to annoy me over on insta so i would work on this. love you, girl!
> 
> see you all whenever ;)  
> -g


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